


Binding Problem

by majesticartax



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But really the slow burn is key here, Canon Compliant, Coming In Pants, Did I mention 'slow burn'?, Dry Humping, Hand Jobs, Is that clear?, Kageyama's mom writes kagehina fanfiction, Let's hear it once more with feeling, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Nerds in tents, Slow Burn, The purplest prose that ever prosed, too much kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 175,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticartax/pseuds/majesticartax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata pines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Prelude**

 

The jarring thud of his body slamming against the gymnasium floor resonates in his skull; his chest is still rising and falling with the exertion of the final moments of the practice match and his ears ring with the mild buzz of a likely concussion.

He blinks once, twice, confused as all hell as to how he ended up staring at the ceiling following the game-winning point, and then Tanaka’s and Nishinoya’s faces come into view, flushed from victory and amusement at their middle blocker’s supine position. A blackish haze bites into the edges of his vision while he watches his teammates’ lips move with good-natured teasing.

“Yep. He’s done for.” Tanaka’s voice sounds far away, the movement of his lips not aligning with the words that find him dazed on the hard floor.

“Kageyama finally killed him.” Nishinoya laughs as Yamaguchi and Lev come jogging over.

Hinata rolls his head to the side in his stupor, trying to glean evidence suggesting why and how he ended up on his back.

It isn’t like he hasn’t become well-acquainted with the floor during his high school volleyball career, and now as a second year, well, he's found himself in this position more times than he could count.

But he hadn’t received with his face this time. He didn't dive for a ball. He certainly didn’t bounce off of anyone. The only other thing he could think of was that one time before prelims last year when he and Kageyama had fought.

_Kageyama..._

His eyes fall sideways onto black sneakers about ten feet away, the image doubled in his swimming vision, and travel up long legs to the number ‘9’ on the front of a black jersey, finally landing on Kageyama’s flushed face pinched into a scowl, his eyes are turned downwards and staring at a spot on the floor, his nostrils flaring and chest heaving.

Hinata’s eyes slide back to the ceiling.

Memories of the past few weeks come trickling back, the endless hours spent perfecting a new quick suddenly occupy his mind and he can still feel the weight of the ball in his hand from less than a minute ago, signifying the winning point scored by the first seamless execution of their new quick – something he came to believe would be an impossible feat. The move was too professional, too intricate, and required a degree of athleticism and skill that he believed he simply did not yet possess. _“If we pull this off,”_ Kageyama had said one evening as they walked home, frustrated and exhausted from countless failed attempts and hours of what felt like non-stop arguing, _“There won’t be a scout anywhere who wouldn’t want us. Both of us. Together.”_ Hinata had looked up at Kageyama, his final word hung awkward and incomplete as they neared the corner where Hinata would hop on his bike and pedal off. The setter’s mouth had formed a hard line and he stared straight ahead as he walked, his brow pinched with something unsaid.

But that’s just how Kageyama always was.  

So here he is. Flat on his back after achieving the impossible. He still feels the elation, the cool rush of adrenaline, the joy stirring inside his stomach as the ball left his hand and connected with the floor on the other side of the net. He had turned to Kageyama and ran towards him. He remembered, just thirty seconds ago, jumping into his arms, wrapping his legs around his waist, the feel of Kageyama’s hair between his fingers, damp with sweat, blue eyes wide with shock and…

_Oh._

_Oh yeah._

Kenma is glancing back and forth between Kageyama and Hinata with lips parted in surprised concern, as he is likely the only other one in the gym who knows exactly what just happened.

_On September 23 rd, 2017, at around 8:30pm, I, Hinata Shouyou, seventeen years of age and of sound mind and body, tried to kiss Kageyama Tobio._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely and talented @caqqucino created an art based on this chapter! Please please check it out - [I LOVE IT SO MUCH!](https://caqqucino.tumblr.com/post/151125749162/he-remembered-just-thirty-seconds-ago-jumping)


	2. Chapter 2

**Four Months Earlier**

 

“Ow ow ow! Stupid! Kageyama! Let go!”

“You’re the one who begged to practice receives, now stop fucking around.” Kageyama growls, tightening his fist.

“I wasn’t! I didn’t BEG! You offered! You’re going to pull all my hair out! Cut it out!” Hinata squeals, attempting to pry Kageyama’s fingers from his scalp.

Kageyama narrows his eyes and drops his hand, ‘ _tsk_ ’ing as he turns away, “Good. Then maybe that stupid hair of yours won’t get in the way of you seeing the ball.”

“It’s not stupid!” Hinata calls, stooping down to grab a ball and lob it ineffectively in the other’s general direction, “And your hair is longer than mine!”

“Shut up, it’s late.” Kageyama replies with a frustrated sigh and a glance at the gymnasium clock, “And you’re obviously too distracted to keep practicing.”

“I’m not distracted.” Hinata mumbles to himself, looking at the clock with a scowl. His face softens when he realizes that it is, indeed, quite late, but his reluctance to agree with Kageyama gives him a few minute’s worth of puttering around and smacking a ball against the floor while he pretends that he isn’t watching Kageyama take down the net. He sticks out his tongue disdainfully when Kageyama meets his eyes.

With a defeated sigh, Hinata concedes and moves to pick up the few stray balls in his immediate vicinity and falls into step beside Kageyama as they make their way to the ball cart.

“I feel like I’m not getting any better.” Hinata whines and kicks at the doorframe while Kageyama flicks off the gymnasium lights.

“Your focus just sucks.” Kageyama replies, irritation thick in his voice as Hinata shuffles behind him.

Anger flares inside Hinata, burbling out in an offended blurt, “Hey! I—“ He begins defensively, stomping his foot. Though something makes him quell his natural instinct to argue. He turns his gaze towards the dark ground and swallows, “Well. M-maybe a little bit…lately.”

“What?” The setter asks without looking behind him, “You’re mumbling.”

“Nothing.” Hinata quips, walking ahead.

“You are, though.” Kageyama says from behind Hinata as he shoves through the clubroom door.

“I am _what_?” Hinata grunts, wrenching his locker open.

“Getting better.”

Hinata pauses in removing his shirt, swinging his gaze around to Kageyama as he busies himself with digging his pants out of his own locker. His face is stoic, unreadable. Hinata realizes that what he just said wasn’t meant as any sort of compliment or encouragement. But it’s the unreadability of Kageyama’s face that gives Hinata more reason to pause.

During their time together as partners on the court, and now, as Hinata likes to think, as friends, Hinata had become quite an expert on the many faces of Kageyama Tobio; he prided himself on distinguishing Kageyama’s ‘mildly annoyed’ face from his ‘I’m totally interested in what’s going on right now’ face, which was actually rather similar to his ‘I’m going to punch you so hard right now’ face, but was drastically different from his ‘I’m going to punch YOU, Hinata, so hard right now’ face.

He became so good at reading Kageyama’s facial expressions that it had eventually gotten to the point where Hinata found himself responding implicitly to the setter, both on and off the volleyball court, answering him or mocking him based entirely on body language alone. Hinata’s own naturally expressive face made it possible for them to hold mini, private conversations with one another, composed entirely of an exchange of glances, which, if Hinata really stopped to think about it, was really sort of…  

“I do not have stupid hair.” Hinata turns and grumbles into his locker, realizing he had just spent the minute it took Kageyama to change staring blankly in his direction with his own shirt hanging limply from his arms. He shucks it off and tosses it haphazardly at his bag.

“It’s not really stupid.” Kageyama says softly, zoning out as he leans against the doorway of the club room and staring at nothing in particular on the floor.

And that is honestly all it takes for Hinata’s heart to skip a beat these days. He shoots the setter another quick look as he takes a long, uninterested sip from his water bottle before shoving it back into his bag. Hinata’s gaze lingers just shy of a second on the way Kageyama’s lower lip briefly catches between his teeth, catching the few stray drops of water.

“Will you hurry up?”

Hinata starts, “Yeah. Sorry.” He says quickly, yanking his clothing on and zipping his own bag to sling it over his body in an awkward, over-exaggerated display of haste. He furrows his brow at the way Kageyama doesn’t even look at him as he leads the way into the warm summer air.

“You need to work on your reflexes.” Kageyama speaks off into the night while Hinata turns to slide the key into the lock, “I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a while.”

“Huh!?” Hinata whirls around, abandoning the key in the door to face this heinous accusation, “What’s wrong with my reflexes!?”

Kageyama rolls his eyes and pushes past the offended redhead to retrieve the key and then shove it into his own pocket, “It just…seems like you’re slipping…” He says as he walks away. Hinata’s mouth falls open and a rattling noise makes its way from his throat before he snaps his teeth together and runs to where Kageyama has paused at the top of the stairs. He looks up with eyes flashing, ready to fire a retort, but Kageyama is looking down at the steps in hard concentration, his face screwed up as the gears turn in his head. He’s fumbling for something, “It’s just…sometimes. It’s not…” He speaks slowly, deliberately, “It’s not something I’ve necessarily noticed…exclusively on the court.”

“There is nothing wrong with my reflexes!” Hinata balks and watches Kageyama begin to descend the stairs, “You’ve even said yourself that I’ve gotten quicker these past few months! You _said_ that!”

“Well sometimes you’re not and it pisses me off!” Kageyama spins around, shouting up at Hinata with, again, a very unreadable expression. Even though he’s facing him, Kageyama’s eyes remain cast to the side.

Hinata narrows his eyes and stomps down the stairs.

“You’re such a child.” Kageyama mumbles when Hinata reaches him.

“When?”

“You always act like a child.”

“No, you idiot, I mean when are my refl—“

“You used to be able to dodge me easily. You got good at it.” Kageyama interrupts and turns to make his way to the bike rack.

“Huh!?” Hinata swallows, freezing mid step.

Kageyama stops and turns to his teammate with a frown. This time he’s looking at him, “Are you coming? I’m not waiting around for you to figure out how to walk.” 

“Explain what you mean.” Hinata replies, his mouth suddenly dry.

Kageyama just snorts and turns away to continue walking.

 _‘Stop doing that!_ ’ Hinata wants to yell, but doesn’t. Instead, “Ha! You’ve got nothing!”

Kageyama stops in his tracks and turns back slowly. He’s…smiling? “No?”

Hinata swallows and raises his hands defensively, “W-what are you doing?”

“Nothing. You look ridiculous. Calm down.” Kageyama says, the smile disappearing from his face as if it was never there, “Are we leaving?”

Hinata’s eyes shift warily from side to side before he drops his hands, but his heart is hammering with an odd rhythm. He forces a casual gait and even breathing and pushes past Kageyama to unlock his bike, “You’re so full of—ARGGOW!”

“THIS is what I mean, dumbass.” Kageyama says coolly as he shakes his fist, his fingers tangled in Hinata’s hair.

“AH! Let GO, you ass!”

“Shh! You’re being loud!”

“THEN LET GO OF ME!”

“I’m just proving my point.” Kageyama replies gruffly, shoving his teammate’s head as he releases him.

“You can’t do it from behind me, you moron!” Hinata cries, rubbing his scalp, “How can I react to something I can’t see!?”

“You’ve done it before.” Kageyama says with a deep sigh, watching Hinata circle around him warily.

Hinata bends down to unlock his bike, smoothing down his hair while keeping his eyes glued to Kageyama’s face. But he’s not looking at him anymore. He scowls, “Maybe you’ve just gotten too fast for me.” He proposes reluctantly while yanking his bike from the rack.

“I don’t think that’s it.” Kageyama replies after a pause, turning to begin their walk home with Hinata falling into step beside him…a couple feet farther away than usual.

But just for a second.  

“Well I’m not getting any slower. I’m just as quick as I’ve always been.” Hinata insists, glaring up at an uncharacteristically spaced-out Kageyama.

Kageyama side-eyes him after another long pause, “I know.”

The look in Kageyama’s dark eyes catches Hinata off guard and his steps falter slightly, “You…you don’t make any sense. You know that?” Hinata says finally, recovering. Turning his face away to hide the burn in his cheeks.

“I know.” Kageyama repeats, looking again into the distance.

Hinata frowns and chews on the inside of his cheek. Removing a hand from his handle bars, he slides it into his own hair and tugs gently, "It has gotten sort of long," He says quietly. "Maybe I should cut it."

"Don't cut it." Kageyama replies just as softly, and Hinata swears he hears a hushed 'please' stuck in there somewhere, but it's definitely his imagination because Kageyama still isn't looking at him, and Hinata wonders if Kageyama actually said anything at all.

An uncomfortable silence stretches between them as they continue their walk down the deserted streets, or it's just Hinata making it uncomfortable. Kageyama seems just peachy walking in total silence like the simple-minded idiot that he is. Hinata steals glances at him every few minutes, still unable to place the expression etched into his dumb face, and it’s really pissing him off.

Kageyama was always a little weird, but tonight there is an indiscernible complexity to his mannerisms. He seems overly mechanical in his footsteps, the angry expression Hinata had become so well-attuned to just doesn’t quite reach all the way to his eyes, giving them a much softer appearance than normal. Though maybe all these things are the result of his own nerves, livewire and frazzled for…some reason, leaving him overly aware of the setter walking beside him.

 _Overly aware_.

An accurate description.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact second, minute, day, whatever, that it started to happen, but during one practice he caught his eyes following Kageyama from across the court, for no real reason other than for the pleasure of…watching him. And he realized, with a certain degree of discomfort, that it hadn’t been the first time. Those long strides, his powerful shoulders, that glimpse of toned muscle he was granted on those rare occasions when Kageyama’s shirt would flutter up during one of his flawless jump serves. He had become…just…so _aware_ of it all.

Hinata recalled the envious rage he used to feel when he looked at Kageyama’s height and athletic physique, but his jealous anger had softened into more of an admiration as he got to know his partner and teammate. For a short time, he felt proud to be beside him on the court – that this talented player had come to trust and value _him_ as an athlete. But that pride and admiration had quickly segued into something slightly different.

It started with mild curiosity. It was a natural progression, he reasoned. Kageyama possessed a level of skill that Hinata had often dreamed of, and it was only natural to be curious about how his body differed from his own – how the muscles shifted beneath his skin when he set or served, what was going on inside his head when he performed one of those rare, god-like spikes of his.

He equated it with the desire to know how a computer worked, but since he couldn’t take a screw driver to Kageyama’s head (as much as he wanted to sometimes) or pull apart his body to view first-hand how those muscles of his worked in tandem, Hinata had to rely on other means to satisfy his curiosity.

And since saying something like, ‘ _Hey, Kageyama, can you take off your shirt_ _and serve a bit for me while I take notes?’_ probably wouldn’t go over too well, he was stuck covertly studying him while they practiced.  

And it’s really hard to study someone while they are sending you tosses, you know!?

So Hinata began to take every opportunity he was given to watch the taller boy from afar, to take note of the position of his feet before launching into a serve, the downswing of his arm before his hand connected with the ball, the hint of shifting back and shoulder muscles beneath his jersey when he dipped his strong arms back while he set for Tanaka or Asahi – when he wasn’t too busy being blinded by jealousy.

He wondered what those shoulders would feel like flexing beneath his hands, and if they would feel anything like how his solid abdomen felt when it was pushed up against his face during their fight a few months prior. His temper was flaring hot, yes, but through the violent fury he still managed to be overwhelmed by the twitching and flexing muscle through the thin white t-shirt against his cheek.

He…thought about that a lot.

Like...A LOT.

Like, sometimes late at night he accidentally finds himself wondering what it would be like to press his cheek against his bare skin. 

Stupid Kageyama and his perfect body.

He had initiated this _awareness_ as a means to possibly improve his own techniques, his own physique, but soon his attention had drifted to parts of Kageyama that he couldn’t ever possibly hope to emulate, no matter the amount of effort he put forth. Parts that really had nothing to do with volleyball. At least, not in the way Hinata had been noticing them.

Like his hands.

Hinata knew how they moved – quite well. He was overly familiar with their operations, and he could imitate their movements in his sleep. Aside from the ball, they were the things he spent most of his time looking at while he was on the court. He _had_ to. He _had_ to know the subtle nuance of Kageyama’s finger positions to know where the ball would end up in the air so he could spike it properly. He _had_ to be wary of those hands that would stick into his hair or fist into his jersey without warning when Kageyama was struck with the desire to chastise him. They held very little sports-related mystery to him anymore.

They were just hands.

But they were…big.

And alarmingly soft.

Like, _confusingly_ soft.

But noticing this did little for his own quest for self-improvement. He couldn’t grow bigger hands, and short of figuring out what kind of lotion the other used, there really was nothing more Hinata could gain from studying them any further.

But then WHY did he have to consciously tear his eyes away from those hands when they were doing nothing of actual interest? When they were gripping a water bottle or just running over Kageyama’s face in exasperation? He found himself caught up in the length of his fingers as they drummed in annoyance against the bench, and the way they pulled the zipper down on his jacket before parting it over his broad chest. The way his hands slid so smoothly into his pockets...

And why did he so often contemplate their _size_ in comparison with his own? Or picture how his fingers could wrap so easily around his own thin wrists...

Hands were hands! Right!?

So then _why_ did he have to curl his fingers into his palm every time after giving Kageyama a high five? _Why_ did his heart feel like it was going to crawl out of his throat that one time they accidentally laced their fingers together when Kageyama was trying to attack him?

And yesterday…

Yesterday he had been frustrated to near tears after he had messed up his sixth receive in a row. He could feel Daichi’s irritation with him, though he would never express it as irritation. After graduation, the third years spent much of their time attending unofficial practices with the remaining team, giving them countless pointers on how to handle the incoming first years, and helping Ennoshita settle into his role as captain. Daichi had made it his mission to help Hinata improve his receives – which he had, Hinata _had_ improved – but he had overworked himself that day, and no amount of coaching from his former captain would remove the aching fatigue from his bones or eliminate his mental weariness.

He stood there ashamed, defeated, unmoved by Daichi’s encouraging smile and reassuring pat on the back that said ‘you’ll get them next time’ before he headed out with Suga and Asahi.

Gazing wistfully towards the third years’ retreating backs, Hinata felt Kageyama sidle up beside him, his gaze following Hinata’s own as the gymnasium doors slid closed.

“ _Please don’t make me feel any worse.”_ Hinata pleaded to the floor. At the lack of a response, he turned to face the taller boy, and was momentarily taken aback by the comforting half smile that looked wildly out of place on Kageyama’s face.

 _“We all have bad days,”_ Kageyama said, looking away to sip from his water bottle, _“I’ll…keep helping you.”_

 _“Tomorrow, then? Receives?”_ Hinata perked up, his eyes shining.

 _“Yeah, sure,”_ Kageyama replied, the hint of a smile back on his lips as he clapped Hinata on the shoulder, _“Tomorrow.”_ And as Kageyama went to leave, his hand slid casually down the other’s arm, with no ulterior design other than performing the natural movement of his body, and Hinata, involuntarily, followed the gesture in turn, raising his own arm into the brush of calloused fingertips as Kageyama stepped away, turning his hand over as the pads of the other’s digits ghosted over his wrist, then his palm, and Hinata’s own fingers extended outwards, completing the motion in a gentle, almost lingering, disconnect of their hands as Kageyama’s thumb swept over his knuckles.

But the unintentional hitch to his breath, the sudden rapidity of his pulse in his ears from less than a second’s worth of tender contact was not mirrored in his friend, as he continued toward the far end of the gym without so much as a glance back. There was no change in gait, no fidgeting of fingers that would suggest that what had just happened was anything more than an accident – something so insignificant, so minute, that it had gone entirely unnoticed by Kageyama.

Why, though, was _he_ still thinking about it? Why—

“'Why' what?”

“What!?” Hinata jumps, realizing that Kageyama is staring at him with probably as much concern as his face can muster, but really he just looks bored and mildly annoyed. 

“You’ve been mumbling to yourself for like two blocks.”

Hinata’s eyes widen and he looks around nervously. They’ve somehow already reached the corner where they part ways. A heat begins to crawl up his face.

“Um…I was just thinking.” He mutters, feigning interest in the design of his handlebars.

Kageyama blinks at him, “Thinking about what?”

“Nothing. I’ll see you in a few hours!” Hinata sings, forcing a blinding smile before hopping on his bike and pedaling away furiously without waiting for a response.

He exhales for what feels like the first time about five minutes into his ride; the thought he managed to allay surging to the forefront of his mind,

_He noticed. He noticed. He noticed. He noticed._

The words in his head blend with the rhythmic clicking of his bicycle and the urgent thrumming of his heart, his breaths quicken into audible pants – a cruel symphony manifesting as an elegy as his brain tumbles toward what he realizes is certain doom.

 _Well_ of course _he noticed! He’s stupid, but he’s not STUPID._

Yeah, it was entirely true he had long since perfected the art of evading Kageyama’s grabby attacks, and yet those slender fingers still managed to find their way into his wild hair, tightening until Hinata squealed in defeat.  

 

 

But there is no way in hell that Hinata is ever going to admit that it's because he likes it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect the timeline to make a whole lot of sense. I'm operating off of the American school year system so...yeah, it won't make sense. Not much we do makes a whole lot of sense.
> 
> This also totally 100% one of those typical, run of the mill kagehina fics that you've already read a million times, so thanks for reading this one :D It is really just acting as some kind of therapeutic distraction for me while I struggle through the next chapter of my main fic, but I will likely rewrite all of this eventually and make it much more...something.


	3. Chapter 3

_He NOTICED._

Hinata pulls his shirt off and flings it angrily to the bathroom floor. He kicks off his pants and leaves them in a crumpled mess next to the tub before stepping into the shower, enjoying the blast of chilled water against his summer-reddened skin before it warms and soothes a few of his aches. Hanging his head while the water rains down over the back of his neck, he mentally revisits the drills that he and Kageyama worked on that evening, replaying his mistakes and enjoying the small victories, reliving the moment he successfully completed his first rolling receive – something he had completely forgotten about until this second, actually – and a little smile works its way onto his lips. It wasn’t even something he had set out to do, but maybe being around Nishinoya so much lately ended up rubbing off on him, because the look on Kageyama’s face after he jumped dizzily to his feet was all the feedback needed for Hinata to know that he just did something that looked _really damn cool._

Not to mention the emphatic high-five he received from the setter. And then…well…

 _‘You’re too distracted to keep practicing.’_     

So now he’s frowning and squirting too much shampoo into his hand and scowling at the over-abundance of suds running down his face as he lathers up his hair, hissing at the burn of the soap in his eyes, and the _plop plop_ noise of the foam against the ceramic is oddly annoying because when soap is in your eyes every sensation is a million degrees of awful, and his feet are sliding around the bottom of the tub while he struggles to find a washcloth that isn’t there, and maybe it would be a good thing to slip and bash his head on the tub because then he would be dead and he wouldn’t have to deal with…with…

_So what if he noticed? It doesn’t mean anything! So what if I like his big dumb hands. SO WHAT._

Blinking away the sting that feels like sand and suppressing the urge to bounce his head off of something solid, Hinata mindlessly rinses the shampoo from his body and scrubs himself clean, ridding himself of the sweat from a hard practice and hopefully some of the shame that went along with what came after.

 _That isn’t weird._ HE’S _WEIRD._

He knocks his head against the tile wall and closes his eyes, standing there and trying to relax under the warm stream but he’s too amped up, too fidgety.

Too self-conscious.

_‘You used to be able to dodge me easily.’_

‘I guess so,’ or ‘whatever you say,’ or, ‘what are you even talking about, you dumb fuck’ are all the things he should have said, but no, he _had_ to get flustered because that’s just how things are for poor Hinata.

He wonders if he can hang himself with the shower curtain.

He quickly comes to realize that his shower has become less of a means for getting clean and more of a damp pity party.

He sighs and turns off the water; the warmth of the shower did calm him a bit, but now he is shivering and groping for the towel he forgot to bring in with him, and the irritation he feels segues into the itch of dull panic and starts to worm its way through his stomach again.

He pops his dripping head out the door to make sure the coast is clear – the last thing he needs right now is to be caught nude and wet in the hallway…actually, there is quite a long list of ‘last things’ he needs right now – and hurries the couple feet to the linen closet, snatches a towel and high-tails it back into the bathroom.

Hinata scowls and mashes the towel against his head.

He bets Kageyama never forgets a towel.

Though he does allow himself a half-second’s worth of a giggle while he imagines Kageyama peeking out of his bathroom in fear before dashing down the hall, his hair all drippy and face flushed from embarrassment but his abs and shoulders are perfect and wet and glistening and he’s naked—

Hinata mentally punches himself in the face and wraps the towel around his waist.

He smears the fog from the glass and pouts at himself in the mirror before he pulls his palms down his face and smacks them against the sink, leaning in to inspect his reflection.

His cheeks are rosy, pinked like he got slapped on both sides.

He sort of feels like he has.

_Stupid Kageyama._

But his eyes look tired. Or more…well, fatigued? He hasn’t exactly been sleeping too well lately, what with the summer heat boiling him alive in his bed every night, but a lack of sleep wasn’t usually something that showed on Hinata’s face. And thank god it didn’t seem to affect his energy throughout the day, either. No, this was more of a mental exhaustion. The kind that only afflicts those with inner conflicts or guilty consciences or women before menstruation…or so he read.  But he wasn’t exactly feeling guilty about anything. Not _guilty_ guilty, anyway. So unless he’s getting his period it’s likely the other thing.

_Conflicted._

Yeah, sure. That’s it. He’s feeling _conflicted._

 _Conflicted_ about this bizarre preoccupation he has with one of his teammates that was violently shoved into tangibility tonight by said teammate’s casual remark about ‘his reflexes.’

He can fix this though. He can, right? Being embarrassed – THAT is his mistake. Kageyama doesn’t actually know anything, so if Hinata just goes back to being Speedy McQuickpants again, all will be right in the world and Kageyama will get off his case and will stop…he’ll stop—

_Touching you. Yeah. That’s…that’s fine._

Hinata chews his lip and pulls his toothbrush from the cabinet.

_That’s fine. Of course it’s fine._

 

 

It’s not fine.

He finishes getting ready for bed and pulls on a pair of boxers before tumbling onto his sheets to undoubtedly drown in his own sweat as he has the past bazillion nights. Kicking the blankets off his bed in frustration, he tries to close his eyes and not think about roasting to death or volleyball or the way Kageyama kept looking at him and NOT looking at him with that weird-ass expression earlier.

He whines and buries his face into the pillow.

_Conflicted._

The thought of Kageyama never touching him again makes his chest feel tight – like finding out your pet bird died or that the world ran out of candy or like finding out he’s not allowed to spike with his right hand anymore…or so he imagines.

What? He doesn’t have much to compare this feeling to, alright? It’s not like he’s ever actually felt it before!

But hands are hands. ‘Hands are hands’ is what he keeps repeating to himself over and over again.  

He sighs and rolls over, stretching a hand of his own towards the ceiling to examine it in the dark.

His hands are rather boring. Small, pale, uninteresting. The nails are bitten to the skin and it is rare that he isn’t sporting a band-aid or two, and the pads of his fingers are calloused and rough from far too many practice spikes. He can still easily see where the ring and middle finger had broken almost three months ago, and they look kind of lopsided. All in all, his hands are really sort of ugly when he thinks about it. And that makes him a little sad.

No one would be looking at his hands the way he looked at Kageyama’s.     

_It’s his fault for always touching me. What if I had some sort of weird fetish, huh? He should be more careful! There are lots of perverts out there! He can’t just go touching people all willy nilly! What if I…_

Something suddenly occurs to Hinata.

He jolts out of bed and yanks his laptop off his desk.

After about two minutes of being thoroughly unimpressed and mildly horrified after googling ‘hand fetish’ he shoves the laptop away and grabs his phone.

_Maybe it’s a setter thing. Maybe setters just have nice hands._

<<11:09 PM Hinata: u awake?

He fidgets.

>>11:10 PM Kenma: yeah

<<11:10 PM Hinata: send me a pic of ur hands

>>11:11 PM Kenma: [[IMG ATTACHMENT]]

>>11:11 PM Kenma: you know I can only get one at a time right

Hinata opens the picture and immediately feels a crushing _nothing_ for what he’s looking at. They are undeniably _pretty_ hands, delicate…sort of feminine, but they don’t make his heart race or anything, they aren’t giving him a boner – and if they did, well, sorry Kenma – but they don’t, so Hinata isn’t sure whether to feel relieved or worried.

<< 11:13 PM Hinata: thanks

>> 11:13 PM Kenma: no problem

He loved Kenma. No weird questions, no demand for a follow up.

What an awesome guy.

_AN AWESOME GUY WITH TRAGICALLY AVERAGE LOOKING HANDS. GODDAMMIT KENMA._

So a hand fetish is out.

Hinata flops onto his back in a huff.

He should sleep. Sleep will clear his head and tomorrow he will be able to think and figure out…something.

Yes. Sleep should do the trick.

Now, how does that go again?

He wiggles around for a few minutes before tossing onto his stomach and back again. He feels like he is literally melting into his mattress, and wondering how Kageyama deals with sleeplessness is certainly not helping him feel any less fired up. Jamming his heels angrily into the bed, he tries cursing himself to sleep, but why the fuck that would ever work is beyond him.

Fevered exhaustion digs him further into his sweat-soaked sheets and his mind is heavy with images of hands in his hair and his legs keep twitching like he’s still diving for the ball.

He realizes he must have fallen into a fitful sleep because suddenly his clock is burning with 1:30am, mocking him back into consciousness and Hinata wishes he had a pillow to throw at it, but for some reason it’s all the way on the floor by the foot of his bed.

With an audible grumble he heaves himself out of bed and grabs the pillow, throwing it against the end of his bed and stuffing his face into it. Maybe sleeping backwards might help things. What? He’s getting desperate.

But now it’s 3am and he can’t take it anymore. Each disjointed segment of sleep is riddled with flashes of hands in his hair or deep disembodied voices telling him he’s too distracted, that his focus is slipping.

Everything inside him feels like snakes.   

And as he’s dangling precariously on the edge of unconsciousness once again, the voice returns.

_‘You’re obviously too distracted.’_

He rolls over.

_I’m not distracted._

_‘You’re distracted.’_

He rolls back over.

_No. I’m not._

_‘You are.’_

_Shut UP, Kageyama!_

His fingers twitch against his damp pillow and he’s trying his best to think about pleasant things, soft comforting things that might promise to take him miles away from this stifling bedroom and deposit him in the sweet arms of rest for the last few hours of the night; but the only image he manages to conjure is a familiar one – a not-so unpleasant one, but not one that will rescue him from the torture of an endless night, however he ends up clinging to it anyway in his desperation.

Their fight begins to replay in his head like a grainy old movie, and it always feels like it was so many lifetimes ago, and it probably shouldn’t be so comforting to relive but it always is. But little details have started to warp with every replay, something Hinata is only barely conscious of.

It started with small things, like a change in the lighting or whether the gymnasium doors were open or closed, and the color of the ball cart is now a darker shade of blue. Kageyama doesn’t look quite so enraged anymore, and was Yachi there? Hinata can’t remember.

Hinata begins to fall, slipping beneath the murky darkness of sleep just as one last memory curls around in his skull like a wisp of smoke, following him down into the haze of a troubled doze.  

His cheek presses hard against Kageyama’s abdomen and his arms tighten in their struggle. Sneakers squeak against the floor and he feels his fingers wind into fabric – fabric that smells like sweat and something that could be anger but it’s something that Hinata has come to sort of like. That earthy Kageyama scent that differs only slightly based on what he wears, and Hinata’s favorite version is of Kageyama in his jersey during and after a game – which might be kind of disgusting, but it reminds Hinata of both the soar of victory and the heart-crushing sting of a hard-earned loss, but with that always came the promise of extended practices to follow, the urge to _do better_ and to push himself alongside his partner and the rest of the team.  

But mostly his partner. But also the rest of the team. But mostly—

But now he’s preoccupied with pressing his face into the smell and the white t-shirt covering said partner’s defined chest, and Kageyama is no longer shoving his head away, but those soft hands are carding fingers through his hair.

‘ _Please don’t cut it.’_

The tickle of warm breath against his scalp makes his heart feel light, and the gym is falling away and they are instead standing beneath the yellow glow of the street lamp in front of his house; he’s breathing out a little sigh when Kageyama’s hand slips down to the back of his neck and Hinata feels himself stretch up on his toes and something softer than the setter’s hands is brushing so faintly against his lips, warm and gentle and impossible.

And holy shit, those softer-than-humanly-possible lips are parting beneath his own and suddenly they are sharing air and Hinata doesn’t know the first thing about kissing but he is _moaning_ into Kageyama’s mouth because Kageyama feels _so good_ , Kageyama always feels _so good_ , and Kageyama moans too, gripping Hinata’s hair and pressing against him—

Hinata’s eyes fly open.

_Oh come on, you drama queen. Like that’s the first time you’ve ever thought about that._

He was right. He was so right. That _so hard_ was _not_ the first time he thought about kissing Kageyama.

But that is where it always stops. It never escalates any further than some innocent kissing, but now he is burning up for reasons other than the summer heat with a very obvious problem pressing into the mattress.

Hinata groans and acquiesces to the demands of his body after shooting the clock one last angry glance. He has about three hours left before his alarm ousts him from his bed, and maybe getting off will finally help him calm down enough to get a few uninterrupted hours of sleep.

He rolls onto his back and sticks his hands down the front of his boxers, shuddering a little at the feeling of his hand coiling around himself, wet from more than just sweat, so it doesn’t take much more than a few pumps to start rocking his hips up into his fist. He’s wondered if other guys get this wet from barely any stimulation, but he’s always been like this so it isn’t something that he’s too concerned about now. It makes moments like these much easier, not having to fumble for lube or spit on his hand (ew) to make the process more pleasurable.

And he doesn’t even know what he’s really thinking about but his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s panting, shivering from pleasure amidst his exhaustion, but he can feel Kageyama’s body against his and large hands are running softly up and down his sides and gripping around his wrists, and maybe they’re in the club room or maybe it’s in the gymnasium or his bedroom, or maybe they are on the fucking moon, but Hinata doesn’t care because he can taste those lips again, he can feel the urgency of Kageyama’s hips pressing into his own, and as he comes all over himself he’s not wondering when the hell he is going to learn to wear a goddamn shirt when he does this or at least hide a box of tissues in his room because he’s just going to end up mopping up his splattered mess with an article of clothing anyway, or whether this is wrong or right because right now he is dizzy with the sensations of Kageyama.

His chest is still heaving as he spreads his fingers to survey the sticky webbing and his eyes drop to the mess all over his torso – at least he didn’t come on his face this time – before he sits up to peel off his soiled boxers and lazily wipe himself clean, dropping them to the floor to deal with in the morning.

Foregoing another pair of underwear, he throws an arm dramatically over his eyes.

And now he feels empty.

He always feels empty after that.

Alright, yeah. He lied about that, too.

Not only was that not the first time he had gotten off to thoughts of stupid Kageyama, finding himself dripping with cum and palpable anxiety, it was hardly the second or third or anything short of maybe a hundred thousand million times, because, whatever, he lost track ages ago and he knows the drill all too well by now.

Kageyama is attractive.

He knew he was attractive the second that he had reappeared in his life.

And Hinata is a healthy hormonal teenage boy, but he didn't expect it to spiral out of control like it had.

He had even noticed other guys - one on the track team was nice to look at, and some guy from the baseball team had really pretty eyes and maybe he thought about Suga in a less-than-innocent way once before...even if they all eventually dissolved into images of Kageyama - so he was quite probably gay, but oh well.

Right?

Lev was gay. Hinata had known that forever. And he was pretty sure that Oikawa was gay, even though girls flocked around him like buzzards.

Okay, if _anyone_ was gay it was Oikawa. 

So it wasn't like he was alone.

But he isn’t dumb enough to think that his attraction to his teammate is anything more than an utterly lost cause.

Kageyama and his god-like body belong with someone just as tall, just as could-be-a-model-if-they-wanted-to, and he would never in a thousand lifetimes be interested in short, pasty, can’t-even-palm-a-volleyball Hinata.

What would he ever be able to offer him outside of volleyball? Outside of a friendship where they borderline hate each other? And even _those things_ will come to an end one day.

And this, he knows. This will always be just another endless night; wishing he could sleep instead of reliving every meaningless sideways glance and brush of fingertips that hold far too much significance to him in those moments.

Now, he knows, he’s going to cry.

_‘Distracted.’_

_No. No that isn’t the right word._

Now, he knows, that he’s going to tell himself that tomorrow will be different; maybe tomorrow he will figure something out or maybe Kageyama will finally give him a reason to hate him, or perhaps these feelings will just stop on their own.

Or maybe just…something else.

Anything else.

For the love of god please let tomorrow bring something else.

_‘Distracted’_

He isn’t distracted, and it isn’t from lack of trying. He _wishes_ he could be distracted, that his efforts towards actually _finding_ a distraction will finally grant him some semblance of relief.

But lying to himself, telling himself that this superficial infatuation with Kageyama’s hands or his body extend no further than that, because THAT at least might be something he can deal with.

He would _kill_ to be distracted.

But he isn’t.

And every night is the same thing.

He can’t even remember what it was like before this thing took root in his chest.

It isn’t just Kageyama’s soft hands or his flawless body; it’s not his dumb face that used to terrify him, but which he now finds maddeningly handsome.

It’s the way he carries himself, the cadence of his voice, those little smirks that Hinata catches that are only meant for him, the way Kageyama still hasn’t found a non-awkward way of saying goodbye when they part ways during their walks home, and the shine in his dark blue eyes that only surfaces when he sees something he really likes. It’s the way he curls into himself when he sleeps and the way he still calls him a dumbass with absolutely no malice in his voice.

It’s how Hinata has watched him develop as a person over the last year.

And yes, yes he _obviously_ loves those hands because they toss to him, they mess up his jersey and his hair but he would never have it any other way because they belong to Kageyama.

But _liking_ Kageyama Tobio has always been so outside the realm of possibilities.

But tonight…tonight is different.

Because _he noticed._

And Hinata’s newly seventeen-year-old heart has no idea how to distinguish feelings of _like_ from _love_ or what actually constitutes as being normal or okay, but he would bet his volleyball career – he would bet his life – on what he just came to realize.

And this, _this_ he knows is different.

He _knows_ that this is new.

It’s all Kageyama’s fault, too. This understanding, this realization, the culmination of all these things that are so far from being firsts for him.

 _This_ is a first. This admission. This _awareness_ of himself. This change in his routine.

 _Because he_ noticed _._

With tears leaking silently onto his pillow he presses a hand to his mouth and shuts his eyes, because maybe if he hopes hard enough this epiphany of his will fizzle out and die.

But that isn’t possible.

 

He knows, now – and there is no going back – that he’s hopelessly in love with Kageyama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually got the idea for this entire fic from the song No Transitory by Alexisonfire, which heavily influenced this chapter specifically. I plan on coming back and rewriting this one, but thank you for reading it as it is now :)


	4. Chapter 4

**September 29 th, 2017 - Present Day**

“I still can’t believe you.”

“Oh my GOD, it’s been almost a week already. Just get over it.” Hinata huffs before taking an aggressive bite of his sandwich. It’s hard to scowl when you’re chewing. “Ih na-lih a-nthi ac—“

“Swallow before you talk to me. You’re disgusting.”

Hinata’s eyes bug out momentarily while he tries to swallow his half-chewed food, because insulting Kageyama trumps choking to death. “Leave it to you to get all bent out of shape when one of your teammates hugs you. It’s how normal people celebrate victory, you colossal asshole. _I_ cannot believe you _threw_ me!”

“People don’t hug with their faces!”

Brown eyes screw shut in frustration and Hinata thumps his head back against the fence of the courtyard. “For the last time, and after this I’m going to punch you in your dumb face if you ever bring it up again, you were _mistaken_. You just freaked out because you’ve apparently never experienced a hug before.”

“I’ve been hugged before, stupid.” Kageyama mutters.

Hinata snorts and goes back to eating his sandwich, keeping his eyes pointed straight ahead.

“Just never by you.” The setter adds. “It was disturbing.”

“Alright, noted – Kageyama is a skittish little baby animal who—“

Kageyama reaches over and palms the side of Hinata’s face, shoving him over.

Hinata can’t help but giggle as he sits up, forcing a frown back onto his face. “Hey, careful. My head still hurts. I could have died you know!”

“Good.” Kageyama grunts, sticking the straw of his milk into his mouth and crushing the box.

The redhead genuinely frowns at that and drops his eyes to the ground.

They sit there in silence for a few seconds before Hinata breaths out angrily, shoving the remnants of his lunch into his bag and moving to stand.

“Wait.”

Hinata stills as Kageyama’s fingers quickly withdraw from the sleeve of his shirt; the setter seems a little surprised at his own gesture.

Hinata pins Kageyama with a ‘what the fuck do you want’ look and blue eyes look away. Watching the ground intently, Kageyama is doing that thing where it’s obvious that he’s thinking very carefully about what he would like to say – the words just seem to get lost before reaching his mouth.

“I’m…sorry.”

Hinata can see a deep furrow in his brow, as if apologizing causes him physical pain. Kageyama makes a throat clearing noise and swallows hard, flicking his eyes up to Hinata’s face before immediately looking away again.

“I…if I was mistaken…I’m…I didn’t mean to…throw you, I guess. It was just—“

“Disturbing?” Hinata supplies with a blank face.

Kageyama frowns and turns to rip open the straw of his second milk box, popping it into the top and sticking it into his mouth, “Yeah.” He says through teeth grit around cheap plastic.

“I was excited.” Hinata says after a second, studying the other’s face as he sits back down. “We finally did something that we had spent the last million days trying to do. Weren’t you happy, too?”

“Of course I was. But it wasn’t like we won a championship or anything! That wasn’t even a real game!”

“So what!? Jesus. I didn’t think I wasn’t allowed to hug my best friend...” Hinata winces at his involuntary use of the ‘f’ word. He hears Kageyama breathe out and looks back up at him.

“I said I was sorry.”

“It really hurt.”

“You caught me off guard!”

“Who reacts like that!?” Hinata’s voice starts to rise. “Even for you, that was way too violent.”

“It’s not like I had a chance to think about what I was doing! I…I thought...“

“Okay okay,” Hinata waves his hands in front of his face and puffs up his cheeks before letting out a breath, “Stop. Just…stop. This is stupid and it’s making me extremely uncomfortable. No more celebratory hugs after anything short of an Olympic gold medal win and the birth of your first child.”

“That’s not what I said.” Kageyama mumbles.

Hinata rolls his eyes and leans back against the fence. “You didn't have to.” He folds his arms across his chest. “Give me your cookies and I’ll forgive you for the brain trauma.”

Kageyama blinks and peers at the redhead out of the corner of his eye.

Hinata is smiling.

“Like you weren’t mentally defective before.” Kageyama smirks while Hinata just helps himself to his lunch.

With a grin full of cookie, Hinata jabs at Kageyama’s knee with his foot before resting back against the fence and breathing a mental sigh of relief. He has to admit, Kageyama has definitely become WAY better at communicating since their first few days as teammates, and he is proud of him.

Sort of.

But he still sucks at it.

The days following the ‘hug’ incident hadn’t quite been as bad as Hinata expected – painful as hell, yeah – but aside from the hour immediately following what had happened, Kageyama did his best to keep his distance from Hinata in school and at practice.

Until today.

The night it happened, however, Kageyama did all he could to avoid Hinata in the clubroom after most of the team had filtered out, and he even ducked out ahead of him (though he did seem to take his sweet time changing, glancing over every couple seconds while Tanaka repeatedly asked if Hinata needed someone to help him home, which Hinata vehemently objected to) but he had still waited for him at the gate after Hinata had dizzily managed to get himself changed.

_“I started walking home but you still looked kind of woozy so I came back…I thought maybe…”_

_“Feeling that guilty, huh?”_

_“Ah—no—I just—“_ Kageyama stammered, face red from the effort, _“It would be bad for the team if you passed out in a ditch somewhere!”_

 _“Whose fault would that have been!?”_ Hinata demanded, pink-cheeked and knowing damn well that one of their teammates intercepted Kageyama on his way out and guilted him into waiting.

Once he had quelled the raging panic that burned through his body as he was laid out on the floor after realizing what he had tried to do on the court, he was resolved to play the whole thing off as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It wasn’t like they had _actually_ kissed – and Hinata didn’t even allow himself to imagine what kind of vegetative state he would be in if he had succeeded in connecting with Kageyama’s lips – and Hinata made it his mission to do everything he could to fill Kageyama’s head with doubt.

 _“What the fuck were you thinking!?”_ Kageyama hissed thirty seconds into their walk, _“Do you think I’m stupid!? Did you think I wouldn’t—“_

 _“What the hell are you babbling about?”_ Hinata whispered, as anything above that volume made the back of his head throb. _“You’re the one who tried to kill me.”_

 _“Well I can’t imagine why.”_ The setter matched Hinata’s hushed tone.

 _“That’s just it!”_ Hinata stopped in his tracks and whirled to face the other.

When his bike clattered to the ground he realized he had spun around just a little too fast, and before he knew it he had dropped to one knee, but strong hands were on his shoulders keeping him from falling forward with Kageyama mirroring his half-kneeling position in the middle of the street. Hinata blanched and shoved his hands away, falling backwards onto his ass and scrambling to blurt out his fabricated demand for answers. _“I don’t know why you did that—STOP IT I’M FINE!”_ He snapped as Kageyama reached for him again.

He rose and dusted himself off under the gaze of irritated blue eyes. _“I don’t know why you thought it was appropriate to do something like that to me.”_ He repeated while he stooped to collect his bike. _“So would you mind explaining, you lunatic?”_

Kageyama had blinked at him, brow pinched with anger and something that looked sort of like mild confusion. His mouth opened once to answer but he snapped it shut again before rising to his feet and turning to continue their walk.

 _“If that’s how it’s going to be, fine.”_ Kageyama mumbled.

 _“What is that supposed to mean?”_ Hinata huffed and followed behind.

But his question remained unanswered, and Hinata couldn’t even see the other’s face as he made sure to maintain some distance a few paces ahead.

 _“Was I supposed to just let you kiss me in the middle of the gym?”_ Kageyama asked quietly after minutes of silence.

Hinata wobbled and the air whooshed out of his lungs in a wheezing noise– he fought the urge to pass out completely as white flashed behind his eyes, his bike almost crashing to the ground again. _“Excuse me!?”_  He yell-whispered, breaking into a cold sweat, _“THAT’S what you think happened!? Are you out of your mind!?”_ Hinata’s heart hammered wildly in his ears as he struggled to look appalled, willing Kageyama not to turn around because he wasn’t sure how to make his face muscles work properly. _“Why, would I ever, in a million, trillion, ZILLION years ever try to…to…do that!?”_

But Kageyama just kept his eyes forward with that signature ‘Kageyama scowl’, and not another word was said until they reached the corner.

 _“Are you going to be alright riding home?”_ Kageyama asked, annoyance and obligation dripping in his voice as he stared back towards the way they came.  

_“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”_

Kageyama glared at him, hard. _“You have_ parents _don’t you, you little shit? That you could call or something?”_

 _“Don’t you think I would have already done that by now! They happen to be out tonight.”_ Hinata cringed as he allowed the volume of his voice to raise just a bit too high.

Kageyama frowned and stared at the ground. Thinking way too hard about something before he raised his eyes and muttered, “ _Well…um_ —“

 _“I’ll be fine, Kageyama.”_ Hinata interjected with a sigh and a wave of his hand. ‘Not that you care’ he wanted to say, but didn’t. _“I actually feel a lot better. The nurse said it wasn’t a concussion so…it’s not like I haven’t had worse.”_ He forced a smile.

 _“Dumbass.”_ Kageyama mumbled as Hinata hopped on his bike.

 _“Homicidal asshole.”_ Hinata shot back.

 _“Um…text me when you get home. Just so I know you’re not dead. Or whatever.”_ Kageyama said, still frowning.

 _“Sure mom.”_ Hinata rolled his eyes. _“I’ll do that.”_

He pedaled away, and just as he was about to round a corner he heard Kageyama yell, _“I’m really not stupid, you idiot!”_

Focusing all of his energy on remaining upright for the duration of his ride home, Hinata didn’t really think too hard about the ache in his chest, or the fact that tears had started to slide down his face; he shoved down the lump welling up inside his throat while he burst through his front door and stomped up his stairs.

‘ _YOU OBVIOUSLY ARE’_ Hinata practically punched out the text to Kageayama when he was safely tucked into his covers, throwing his phone onto the ground furiously right before he pushed a pillow hard into his face and screamed.

Angry tears spilled freely onto his sheets while he nursed his aching head until he drifted into a restless sleep.

He had awoken a few hours later with a dull throb in the back of his head and a black hole where his heart should be. Kicking off the covers, Hinata dragged himself out of bed and down the hall to get himself a glass of water.

Crying always made him thirsty. And the fact that he knew that about himself made him feel only slightly more pathetic.

Was that even possible?

Scooping his phone off the floor to check the time on his way back to bed, he noticed that Kageyama had texted him a _‘goodnight, moron’_ and he collapsed back into bed with his phone pressed against his chest.

Ah. Yes. It was very possible.

Hinata chewed on his lip.

He felt disgusting.

He _was_ disgusting, and Kageyama was so disgusted by the thought of Hinata kissing him that he had launched him halfway across the court.

How could he have let that happen? He had been _so careful_ about keeping his feelings buried during the times they were together, only to have them leak out of him in various forms when he lay awake at night.

But they had been so close to overflowing that they were bound to spill over into daylight hours, or so he supposed.

He sighed.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t grown accustomed to the ever-present ache in his chest, but just because you’re used to something doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

And it’s not like he wasn’t happy. He was happy; he still loved volleyball as much as he ever had, and the new additions to the team were fitting in well. Not to mention one of them seemed to have a little ‘thing’ for Hinata…not like the ‘thing’ he had for Kageyama (Christ he hoped not, the poor bastard) but more of an innocent admiration.

It was cute and it made him feel special. So what? He liked the feeling of someone looking up to him. It seemed to give him an extra purpose.

Plus he sort of looked like a mini version of Oikawa, which somehow made it even better. 

And even though loving someone who didn’t love you back was sometimes agony, he was grateful for the relationship he had with Kageyama. He didn’t ever allow himself to hope or dream…alright, _dream_ he did do.

But when else was he free to touch him and kiss him and tell him how just being around him made his heart feel full and warm? How the bump of a shoulder or genuine smile sent him to his own personal heaven? And how Kageyama’s voice saying his name made his skin prickle with excitement?

And he wasn’t willing to give up that happiness for anything. As long as Kageyama didn’t know, everything could still be okay.

And dreaming. Dreaming was okay.

But now everything may very possibly be very far from 'okay'.

He wanted to be happy that Kageyama cared enough to walk him home - but that constituted as 'hope', and he knew that Ennoshita or Yamaguchi convinced him to.

He saw the way Kageyama had looked at him.

Which was why Hinata wasn’t the least bit surprised when Kageyama avoided him the rest of the week. There was no race to the gym Monday morning, and Hinata found Kageyama already helping Yuu with his jump serve when he shuffled through the doors.

Forcing a smile and casual wave in Kageyama’s general direction, Hinata tried to ignore the look of horror that crossed his teammate’s face and instead took it upon himself to check the air in the practice balls before the rest of the team joined them.

But eventually he lost himself in the bubbling energy of Noya and Tanaka’s morning antics and the hilarious way the first years still seemed to be terrified of Tsukishima – rightfully so, the boy was a demon – and his smiles became less forced. Even if the glances he sent Kageyama’s way filled him with mild dread and regret, he knew that he would be okay.

Filling the void with volleyball and the spirit of the rest of the team seemed like the best course of action.

Maybe.

For a while. 

The rest of the week followed suit – Hinata didn’t really try to seek out Kageyama for their daily lunches, nor did Kageyama wait for him after practice to walk home, though they did run into each other once outside of the bathroom.

Kageyama froze, lips parted stupidly like he was stroking out before Hinata angrily pushed past him, hiding the tears that forced their way free once he slammed a stall door.

But today he found Kageyama leaned against the lockers outside of his classroom, looking cool as hell and waiting to walk him to lunch as if nothing ever happened.

_Because nothing actually did happen._

Dreaming, though...dreaming is okay.

So, hope? Ha. He just heard it for himself - even a simple hug from Hinata was 'disturbing'.

“So are you going to stop avoiding me?” Hinata asks as they walk slowly back into the building at the end of lunch.

“What do you think this is, dumbass.”

“Who knows with you. You’re weird.”

“You were avoiding me, too. Don’t pretend like you weren’t.”

“Huh? I wasn’t avoiding you.” Hinata stops before they reach the door.

“I just told you not to pretend.”

“I…wasn’t though.” Hinata screws up his face in confusion.

Kageyama scowls and pulls the door open, “I had to stand outside of your classroom to get you to eat lunch with me.”

“Yeah, but…wait.“

“Shut up. I’m not avoiding you so get inside so I can close the fucking door.”

Hinata’s heart leaps into his throat when Kageyama’s fingers twitch as he scurries by, and his hand shoots out to catch Kageyama’s wrist above his head before fingers plunge into his hair.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Kageyama exhales in mild amusement and a dark brow twitches up with surprise.  

Suppressing a crazy grin as he drops Kageyama’s hand, Hinata can’t help the tiny smirk that curls onto his lips as they turn to make their way down the hallway. He eventually has to clap a hand over his mouth to hide the giggle that burbles up from his chest as he follows Kageyama to his locker.

He feels light; relieved to near euphoria.

But joy is funny like that. It’s relative. And he knows he wouldn’t be soaring with glee right now had he not spent the week silently suffering.

Sometimes he’s actually grateful for this absurd yearning.

“What’s so funny?”

Hinata’s giddy laughter bursts past his fingers and he doubles over, clutching Kageyama’s locker door for support.

Students walking by give them some strange glances, and Kageyama just rolls his eyes and stuffs a book into his backpack.

“I can’t—I can’t—“ Hinata struggles for words between gasping breaths and hysterical laughter, “I can’t believe you thought I tried to kiss you!” He finally manages with the only explanation for the outburst he can think of, wiping actual tears from his eyes. “Oh my god, Kageyama, that’s just—wow—“

But Kageyama has paused half-way in removing the last of his books with a completely blank look masking his very flushed face, jaw flexing as he clenches his teeth.

He’s staring at Hinata with glassy eyes.

Hinata blinks up at him, his laughter dwindling, “Um— _ahem_ —Kageyama?”

“Shut up.” He snaps, brows pinching as he jerks his gaze back to his locker, “You’re so loud!”

One last titter escapes Hinata and Kageyama slams his locker with a metallic clang.

“See you at practice later.” Hinata calls over his shoulder as he makes his way down the hall, “Don’t be late!”

“When have I ever been late, jackass?”

But Hinata isn’t listening – he’s too busy humming and skipping to class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I aged up Yuu Ogasawara because I didn't feel like creating some OC that I couldn't even pretend to care about...so Yuu joins the fight as a first year!


	5. Chapter 5

Kageyama drops down heavily next to Hinata on the grass after their last lap of sprints while the evening’s practice comes to a slow end. It’s been almost two weeks since Hinata’s little slip up, and things have pretty much gone back to normal – and thank god, fall prelims were fast approaching and Hinata didn’t need to be nursing a broken heart while they worked their collective asses off.

And in honor of the unseasonable warmth, the boys decided to take advantage of the school’s outdoor practice net, receiving and spiking amidst the reds and golds of a balmy autumn.

“First years line up!” Ennoshita shouts, “We’re doing topspin serves before you leave. Yamaguchi is going to show you.”

“Wuaaaah—“ Hinata rocks onto his back and smacks his sneakered feet against the soft ground, “Why is it still so hooot?”

“Well thank god it is,” Nishinoya says, sprawling beside Kageyama, “I would rather not freeze to death in a fucking tent this weekend. Ennoshita sucks for making us do that. AND I had to move my birthday party for this stupid thing!”

“Nishinoya! That isn’t nice!” Hinata pipes and shoots into a sitting position as Tanaka joins them on the grass, “It’s going to be fun!”

“Holy shit, I can believe Hinata just called something non-volleyball related ‘fun’.” Tanaka says, “But I’m super pumped for it! I remember Saeko doing the same kind of relays when she was in high school. She and all her friends would be at our house all afternoon, painting their faces and cutting up their team shirts to make their boobs look all sexy.” He rests his chin in his hands, staring off dreamily.

“How ‘bout it, Kageyama?” Noya sits up and nudges his teammate with his toe, “You going to paint your face and make your boobs sexy with me?”

Kageyama just glares and Noya crawls over to start pawing at his shirt and poking at his chest, “Come ooon. I bet you would look nice in a tube top.”

“Tanaka, get your boyfriend under control.” Kageyama says, swatting the short boy away.

“Ryu! We’ve been discovered!” Noya jumps to his feet and throws his arm dramatically over his eyes.

“It was only a matter of time, my love!” Tanaka responds in turn, rising and taking Noya’s hands in his own, “We mustn’t hide who we are any longer!”

“Oh, Ryu! I love you!”

“I love you, too, my darling! Kiss me! quickly!”

The two collapse into a fit of laughter while Kageyama and Hinata just look at each other.

Hinata hopes that the heat in his face is more of an internal problem and he doesn’t actually look like an over-ripe apple as he hides some nervous laughter behind his hand.

“Okay, well anyway, that’s different.” Noya gets back to the topic at hand after the theatrics, “She signed up for that. We weren’t given a choice! And it’s _right_ when we need to be preparing for prelims, too! Can’t we help the poor after the finals?”

“The charity is for juvenile diabetes, asshole.” Kageyama says, “Not the poor.”

“Well those _poor_ juveniles and their diabetes, but—FWAH—“ Hinata gets hit in the face with a clump of grass, “—Nishinoya is right. We should probably be focusing all of our energy on volleyball, not running nonstop for an entire day! Will we even get breaks!? How are we supposed to eat!? What about peeing! Oh my god I didn't even thing about—”

“Wait. Hinata, what do you think a twenty-four-hour relay is?” Kageyama asks, watching Hinata pick grass out of his hair.

“Um. Well…isn’t it where we all run as long as we can? Like the team that with the most members standing at the end wins?“

“Oh my god it’s a RELAY, retard. As in ‘ _relay race_ ’? We take turns!”

“Oh…” Hinata looks at the ground with a frown, “Really? But—“

Tanaka bursts out laughing, “You really thought we would _all_ have to run the whole time!? That’s inhumane! Each person runs a mile and then tags in the next one!"

Hinata shoots a perplexed Noya an angry look. “Hey! You told me—“

“You guys are seriously stupid.” Kageyama says.

“Maybe. But Ennoshita still sucks for signing us all up.” Noya grumbles. “And yeah – we should be expending our energy practicing every chance we get.”

“Hey wait,” Tanaka says. “We’re going to be camping in the middle of the track, aren’t we? As in, lots of lawn space? Maybe we can set up a net!”

“Yeah!” Hinata perks up. “I mean, this is a school-wide event, right? We could challenge other sports teams to matches!”

“Alright…maybe this won’t be so terrible.” Nishinoya admits. “So…you think the girls still…?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively at Tanaka.

“Of course they do! It’s like, law or something.”

“Imagine those two from the soccer team…”

Hinata lies back in the grass as Nishinoya and Tanaka speculate about sexy shirt-related business and he rolls his head towards Kageyama, who has been sitting quietly watching the first years practice their serving. His eyes drop to Kageyama’s fingers, flexing into the grass only inches from his face.

“Do you have a tent, Hinata?” Tanaka peers around Kageyama.

Hinata breathes out a puff of air in thought, blinking away from Kageyama’s fingers, “I don’t think my family has ever gone camping, so I don’t think so.”

“What about you, Kageyama?”

“Yeah.” He says, “Fits four people, I think.”

“Awesome!” Noya cheers, “I’ve got a small one for me and Tanaka, so you and Hinata can be with whoever else, then.”

Hinata’s heart skips a beat, “Wait, why do I have to be with—“

“Obviously.” Kageyama interrupts, his eyes on the court.

Hinata swallows and points his gaze towards the sky.

_Obviously? Why obviously! Wait wait…It’s not like you’ll be alone with him. There will be other guys in there, so calm down. It will be just like training camp._

Yeah. Like training camp.

Training camp where he lies awake for half the night trying not to stare at Kageyama while he sleeps.

What would Kageyama do if he ever knew? Heh heh…probably kill him.

Who wouldn’t? That’s creepy as fuck.

Hinata has to stifle a laugh as he imagines the setter waking up – how wide his eyes would get and the dumb angry scowl that would undoubtedly work its way onto his face right before he strangled Hinata in his sleeping bag among their slumbering teammates.

Why does the thought of Kageyama murdering him seem to calm him down?

Hinata allows his eyes to drift back to elegant, sturdy fingers. The fingers that would choke him to death if Kageyama were to somehow figure out what Hinata has been thinking about for months.

Or right now.

Not a bad way to go, really.

He licks his lips.

Those fingers…fingers he could so easily reach out and thread his own through, if he wanted to.

No – he definitely _wanted_ to. If he had the _courage_ to.

Fingers that had been in his thoughts a little more than usual, actually.

Fingers that make his mouth positively water; something he isn’t even immune to now, apparently.

He swallows and parts his lips.

 _Careful._ He scolds himself. _This is hardly the time or place, you pervert._

And the way the pad of Kageyama’s thumb drifts casually across his perfect nails shouldn’t be anywhere near erotic but it _so goddamn is_.

Hinata sits up quickly when Kageyama shifts, the setter dragging his heels against the ground and popping his knees up to press his hands flat against his thighs before slipping down over the shiny fabric of his shorts and then back up again, presumably wiping grass and sweat from his palms, but it is less functional and more sex-act to Hinata as he remains fixated on their slow movements as heat floods his cheeks.

And to an untrained eye, Kageyama’s hands have stilled completely but Hinata can see quite plainly that they haven’t – no; they flex just barely into the black material before lying flat again.

But only for a moment.

Now the fingers of one hand are busy at a knee, subtly hitching the fabric down an inch before curling so slightly beneath the hem, running the seam over the pads of his ring and middle fingers so sensually it’s like he knows it’s driving Hinata absolutely insane.

If Hinata didn’t know WAY better he’d swear that he’s doing it on purpose.

He shudders.

If he had the courage…

If he had the courage he would take that hand in his, curling his own small fingers beneath that soft palm and draw it slowly to his lips.

He would kiss the knuckles one by one and he would stare; he would stare at Kageyama’s face, into his eyes, imprinting every subtle facet of his expression onto his brain to file away to revisit again and again every minute of every day for the rest of his life. He would pull a finger into his mouth and bite gently, studying his partner’s reaction as he flicked his tongue against the tip.

Would Kageyama look away? Would he be shy? Would he moan?

He would moan.

And he knew that Kageyama didn’t want it but what if he _did_? What if in some alternate reailty he were sitting just as he is now, fantasizing about Hinata taking those fingers slowly into his mouth.

Hinata would take his time, too, rolling his tongue over the flavor, tasting, inscribing the sensation of the salty fingers in the back of his throat and he would never look away.

And Kageyama would fucking moan.

Something that was quite possibly the best thing Hinata could ever hope to hear; because that would mean that _he_ is the one making it happen.

He’s the one doing it.

Giving Kageyama pleasure.

 _God I want that_.

But there it is again, that ‘hope’ that he stuffs back down into himself the moment it so rudely bubbles to the top, and he goes right back to dreaming.

 And there those hands go, dragging so slowly down over firm thighs that Hinata can’t quell the urge to wipe his own sweaty palms against his overly-sensitive thighs, and when he feels his cock twitch he knows he’s gone too far.

_Oh. Oh no. No no no please god no._

Dreaming is sometimes not okay.

He grips his fingers into the material of his shorts and stares at the grass in front of him in hard, desperate concentration, breathing out a harsh breath and willing away his growing problem but it’s a little bit too late.

Brown eyes flick to the setter slightly in front of him, panicked that he just accidentally called attention to himself, but Kageyama is still turned away but oh god he’s biting his lip now.

_Why WHY are you biting your lip like that you stupid fuck._

But Hinata is biting his own lip, mesmerized by the hand that is slowly swiping black hair off of a gorgeous face before settling back onto a bare knee.

His eyes lid as he watches Kageyama’s tongue dart out and wet the lip that was just caught between his teeth, breath catching at the wet sheen over plump red flesh. And now – oh god _now_ those fingers are drumming against those lips in thought, pads tapping in gentle succession and blue eyes lift; and as Kageyama turns towards him, Hinata watches transfixed at the disconnect of fingers from ruddy skin, focusing on the movements of beautiful lips rather than the speech emitted, and a quiet whine rattles in Hinata’s throat as dark brows pinch before the lips move again and Hinata parts his own and

_Oh god he just said something. He just said something to you and you’ve been staring at him._

Yeah. He’s staring at a half-erect Hinata and he’s awaiting a response, and Hinata has absolutely no idea what he just said.

_Quick! Say something! Something poetic and elegant and_

“Stop with your face, god!”

_Brilliant._

Kageyama jerks back and curls his lip, “Huh? What—“

“HEADS UP!”

“HINA—“

But Hinata is too busy concentrating on the untimely problem in his shorts and keeping his expression in neutral to see the ball headed for his face, and – oh big surprise – he ends up on his back again.

_This is getting old._

“Jesus, Yuu. Were you _aiming_ for him?” Kageyama gets to his feet and glares at the cowering first year.

“N-no, Kageyama! I swear! Oh my god Hinata I’m so sorry!”

_Yuu, I love you._

Because, believe it or not, nothing helps get rid of a boner quite like a ball to the face.

Apparently.

“I’m fine I’m fine!” Hinata insists, curling onto his side and cradling his sore cheek, “Just…ow…give me a second.” He groans.

“You’re like a ground magnet.” Kageyama mutters and reaches to help Hinata to his feet, only to be met with a loud yelp and the redhead suddenly scooting several feet away with a look of terror on his face.

“Don’t! Don’t touch me!”

Kageyama freezes with his arm still extended and the boys nearby are suddenly looking back and forth between Hinata and Kageyama in confusion.

“What?” Kageyama asks with a blink.

“Y-your hands are so weird!” Hinata says in rushed panic, “They’re like weird! Your hands! They make me feel—they’re weird!” He babbles frantically.

_What are you doing what are you doing SHUT UP_

Kageyama visibly recoils in confusion, “What—weird?”

“Y-yeah!” _Nice, you unbelievable piece of shit._ “They…they’re weird. They’re like all weird, okay!? Like, too soft! It’s weird! They’re all—“

“Weird?” Kageyama repeats, straightening up and raising his arms, flicking his gaze from palm to palm. “Soft?” He lifts his eyes to Hinata’s horror-stricken face, “Are you insane or just stupid?”

“They’re like a girl’s!” Hinata blurts uncontrollably in his panic and crabwalks backwards a couple more feet, “It’s creepy!”

Hinata’s chest is heaving as he realizes everyone is staring at him with wide eyes.

“What the hell are you idiots doing?” Tsukki asks as he makes his way over, “Are you—BLAARG”

Tsukishima wipes at his cheek furiously, Kageyama having swiped his own palm over the tall boy’s face.

“The fuck is wrong with you!?”

“Would you say that hand is soft?

“What! No, you psycho! Fuck!” Tsukki removes his glasses in disgust, wiping them on his shirt before sticking them back onto his face.

Kageyama pins Hinata with a ‘well?’ look, a blush slightly apparent in his cheeks.

Tsukishima's gaze drops to Hinata on the ground. Then he smirks. “Oh. I see. I’ll just…leave you to it.” He turns and walks off with a smug laugh.

Kageyama looks back at the retreating boy with a frown. He steps forward and leans down to grasp the front of Hinata’s shirt, hauling him up with a mumbled ‘dumbass’ despite the panicked cry of protest.  

“Alright, I guess we can call that a day.” Ennoshita says, joining the group at the sidelines as Hinata struggles to pretend like he isn't catching his breath.

He knows he's failing because he can see Noya staring at him out of the corner of his eye before nodding his head towards the school, and he and Tanaka retreat.

“Hinata, I’m really sorry…” Yuu repeats to the ground after most of the team made their way inside.

“Don’t worry about it.” Hinata forces some even breathing and scratches the back of his neck, “But if you don’t want that to happen again, maybe you should stop taking advice from Kageyama.”

Yuu shoots a look up at the setter but he’s turned away, arms folded and watching Yamaguchi and Tsukki walk off with a very red face. He looks back at the ground, ashamed.

“Oh my god, Yuu, I’m kidding.” Hinata reaches out and shakes the distressed boy by the shoulder, trying to ignore the fact that he has to reach up slightly to do so.

Yuu’s eyes dart sideways to Hinata’s hand and then back at Kageyama. He laughs nervously, “I’ve been practicing regular jump serves, mostly. I can’t really…do any others yet. I’m…I’m really sorry.”

“Well Kageyama can do anything, so he’s the best one to learn from!” Hinata grins and drops his hand. 

“Yeah…I’m gonna go!” Yuu says quickly with one last glance at Kageyama, “See you guys tomorrow!”

Hinata watches Yuu run off as Kageyama turns back to him.

“He’s a little weird.” Hinata mutters.

“Is that the only word you’re capable of today?” Kageyama snaps.

Hinata’s face pinks, “Shut up. Toss to me.” He says before stomping away to fetch a ball.

“You sure? You’re not scared of being tossed to by my _weird_ hands?” Kageyama calls.

“I didn’t mean that!” Hinata insists, hurling a ball towards the other, "I...um...was thinking about this nightmare I had!"

“You repeated it like ten times.” He said, frowning at the ball in his hands, “How could you think they’re soft? They’re pretty messed up, actually.”

“I…didn’t know what I was saying. I was—“

“I mean, look at them.” Kageyama says, sticking the ball under his arm and holding his palms out.

“I know what your hands look like! Jesus, will you toss already while the sun is still—“

“Feel them.” He blinks owlishly and takes a step forward.

“N-no thank you!” Hinata takes a step back.

“If you didn’t mean what you said, prove it.”

“I’m not just touching your hands! That’s…that’s—“

“It’s what?” Kageyama asks with a smirk, taking another step forward, “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

“I’m not, idiot! Who would be scared of your dumb hands?” Hinata’s mouth is very dry and he can feel himself begin to shake. Kageyama takes one more step, “Are you going to toss to me or not?”

“Not until you—“

“OKAY FINE!” Hinata grunts, ignoring his heart in his throat and smacks his hands flat against the other’s like a high-five but leaves them there, glaring up at Kageyama in a way he hopes is menacing.

Kageyama quirks a brow in question.

Hinata blinks down to their joined palms, the setter’s hands dwarfing his own and now he realizes that there is no way in hell that Kageyama can’t feel him shaking.

Kageyama slips his hands up and Hinata jumps as they slide against his own. His blood is rushing so hot and loud in his veins he swears Kageyama can feel it pulsing through his skin, and suddenly—

“Wait.” He frowns in confusion. “What…” He swallows and pulls his fingertips down gently over the rough skin, running an index finger over the callouses on the setter's wide palms, this thumb drifting over the torn skin at the heel of his hand.

“I told you.”

“I…I don’t…” Hinata whispers, his heart thudding so loud he can’t hear himself speak, “I don’t get it.”

“What’s there not to get?” Kageyama responds in a whisper of his own.

And Hinata meets his eyes, the confusion in his own not mirrored at all by the other, and his gaze flicks down to parted lips and back up again.

“Alright alright,” Hinata pushes away before his heart leaps out of his chest, turning around as fast as humanly possible and trying not to gulp in oxygen, “So you’re a witch or something. Whatever!”

“No, you’re just _very_ stupid.”

“Shut up.” Hinata repeats with a huff, “I felt your creepy witch hands now toss to me before we die of old age.”

It takes a couple of successful spikes for Hinata's heart to settle back into his chest, and he finally stops shaking as the sun dips low on the horizon.

“Bet I run more than you this weekend.” Hinata challenges after a few silent tosses.

“You’re on.” Kageyama says, tossing the ball up and catching it himself.

“What do I get when I win?”

Kageyama holds onto the ball and peers over at the other, poised to spike the next toss.

“I’ll think about it.” He answers, launching the ball into the air.

“Wait, what!?” Hinata stumbles into his jump, whipping his head around to gape at his rival.

“Dumbass.” Kageyama breathes quietly as the ball hits Hinata for the second time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently the whole 24-hour relay thing isn't common knowledge, so I had planned this chapter before realizing it. 
> 
> 24 hour relays are- as described by Tanaka and Kageyama- relays where teams camp at the school and each member takes a turn running a mile before tagging in the next team member, and it repeats for an entire 24 hours. Usually people try to sleep in shifts, but it always results in hilarious antics and sleep-deprived conversations. 
> 
> Good times are always had.
> 
> Unless, of course, your name happens to be Hinata Shouyou.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wtf even is this chapter

“Why is the girls’ basketball team so good at volleyball?” Tanaka complains loudly to the sky as they make their way across the center of the track towards their makeshift camp.

“Because they’re all taller than ninety percent of our team.” Tsukishima says, glaring down at Hinata.

“Don’t imply he’s that important!” Kageyama barks, shoving the back of Hinata’s head. Hinata turns around with a ‘why me?’ look.

“What are you guys whining about? We won every set!” Nishinoya says.

“Nishinoyaaaa, they scored like twenty points! How could we have let that happen?” Hinata grumbles. “And did you see that one girl’s serve!? It was like BAM—WHOOSH!!” He bounces in front of Kageyama, waving and flailing his arms. “Did you see her biceps!? She could crush me!”

“That isn’t saying much, you midget.”

“Okay fine – I bet she could crush Asahi.”

“I think that _was_ Asahi.” Tanaka says.

“Well maybe they wouldn’t have scored so much if you and Kageyama weren’t running around the track screaming for half of the first set. You idiots know you’re supposed to take turns, right?” Tsukishima says, clearly unconcerned whether they actually know that or not.

“I don’t remember seeing that in the rule book!” Hinata snaps, throwing himself to the ground beside their bright orange tent with Noya and Tanaka.

“Oh my god, it’s in the _name_ dumbass! It’s a fucking _relay_!” Kageyama gripes as he disappears into the tent.

“Then stop following me every time it’s my turn!” Hinata yells at orange vinyl.

“Holy shit, why are you always so loud!” The taller boy snaps, stepping out and tugging on a grey hoodie, “I’m right fucking here. It’s a _tent._ Anyway,” He continues, addressing Tsukishima. “We get our laps done faster that way. _Some_ one has to make up for your shit excuse for running. I can’t believe you _walked_ your last one, you lazy asshole.”

“Excuse me, but I need to conserve my energy. God knows I won’t be getting any sleep sharing a tent with you two.”

“It’s okay Tsukki! Maybe they’ll tire themselves out.” Yamaguchi snickers.

“Yeah right.” Tsukishima snorts, dragging a lawn chair over and folding himself into it. “There is no way that either of them will be doing any sleeping.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!?” Hinata pops onto his elbows, face pinched in over-exaggerated disgust.

“He means we’re going to be fighting, idiot. Get that stupid look off of your face.”

“Yeah well in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve gotten a lot better lately!” Hinata jumps to his feet and points a finger in the tall blond’s face.

Tsukishima ignores the finger and smirks up at narrowed brown eyes. “Oh trust me, I’ve _noticed._ Right, Yamaguchi?” He says, not looking away from Hinata. “Wouldn’t you say we’ve _noticed_?”

“I will kick you both out of my tent so goddamn fast.” Kageyama threatens, grabbing a chair of his own as Hinata’s hand gets rudely smacked out of the air. He rubs at the sting in offense and drops back onto the ground, splaying his legs out straight.

“Pfft. Of course you would. You’d _really_ like that wouldn’t you.“

“Okay, Tsukki…come on…” Yamaguchi says nervously.

“Oh stop it. Kageyama wouldn’t kick you out.” Hinata says, suddenly concentrating hard on pulling up fistfuls of grass and tossing them at his feet.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Tsukishima says with a wicked grin aimed at Kageyama. Hinata glances up and is a little perturbed for having been left out of the inside joke, but it’s probably best not to ask as the look in Kageyama’s eyes suggests casual murder.

“Heh heh! Tsukki that’s enough! I’d rather not sleep outside tonight…It’s getting kind of cold.” Yamaguchi says, glancing quickly at Hinata.

Yamaguchi must not get it either. Hinata shrugs.

“Hey guys!” Yachi calls breathlessly, jogging over before stopping to lean her hands on her knees and catch her breath. “W-why am I doing this with you, again?” She manages between pants. “I’m not exactly an athlete!”

“No, but you rock jogging shorts better than anyone I’ve ever seen.” Nishinoya grins up from the ground.

“Ah—thanks. Um, oh! They’ve got lunch for us over at the food tent.” She says with pink cheeks.

“Finally!” Tanaka cheers, jumping to his feet. “I’m wasting away!”

Hinata peeks at Kageyama out of the corner of his eye and the taller boy shoots him a look of his own, and suddenly they are up sprinting towards the food tent, weaving around other students and shoving each other as they go.

 

* * *

 

 

“Don’t steal my food.” Hinata says to Tanaka as he eyes the plate the redhead placed on the ground before heading to the tent to change into something warmer than gym shorts and a light t-shirt.

The temperature had dropped considerably since that morning; the relay began at a sunny and clear 8 am and the students gathered on the track sporting their team shirts, emblazoned gaudily with the names of their teams’ sponsors. All of the sports teams were in attendance (as Hinata had hoped) along with several motley teams of assorted non-athlete students. They were all encouraged to choose a theme and decorate their shirts accordingly, and – to Noya and Tanaka’s delight – many of the girls’ once-whole shirts were now rather…creatively scant.

But while those two were busy drooling over cleavage, the rest of the boys were checking out each other’s alterations to their own black t-shirts, which consisted almost exclusively of painting their jersey numbers and names onto the back the afternoon prior. ‘Volleyball Team’ made an excellent theme, wouldn’t you say?

And unfortunately for Nishinoya and Hinata, Yachi had neglected to order extra small t-shirts, but she and the tiny boys improvised by tying the large shirts around their necks and proudly wearing them as capes as everyone lined up to run the inaugural mile as a group, and quickly abandoned them in their tents following the final lap.

The rest of the morning was full of other sports teams falling for Hinata’s and Nishinoya’s puppy-dog eyes and getting their asses kicked on the grassy volleyball court, each team member peeling off every once in a while to run their laps.

 “So what’s going on with your birthday?” Hinata asks Nishinoya, flipping up the hood of his dark blue sweatshirt as they mow down on sandwiches.

“Oh man! Okay,” Noya starts between bites. “Tanaka’s parents are out of town in a couple weeks so I’m having it at his house!”

“Yeah, and Saeko is going to be back, so you know what that means!” Tanaka says with a full mouth.

“What does that mean?” Hinata wrinkles his nose.

“Alcohol.” Kageyama says blandly from beside him, taking a sip of his drink.

 “Yeah!” Nishinoya says excitedly, “I mean, we can’t get tooo crazy. Saeko said she’s holding me personally responsible for any vomit that makes it onto the carpet so…you know. Maybe a beer or two, but that’s it. Oh! And they have a fire pit in the back yard so we can have a bonfire!”

“Can we toast marshmallows!?” Hinata squeals.

Kageyama snorts and starts choking on his drink while Tsukishima and Tanaka laugh.

“Why is that funny?” Hinata pouts.

“Because you’re adorable.” Tanaka says, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

“What are you, five?” Kageyama manages hoarsely.

“Plus eleven, butt face!”

“You’re seventeen, dumbass.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Shouyou, you’re supposed to be excited for the alcohol, not the s’mores.” Nishinoya teases.

“I didn’t even think about _s’mores_!” Hinata jumps up, balling his fists. “You’re a genius! Please please let me bring all that stuff!”

“Okay okay, now that we have the s’mores situation under control.” Noya giggles and counts off on his fingers. “We’ll probably be getting pizzas, Suga and Daichi said they will bring soda, and – oh! – Tsukishima has this projector thing so we can play video games on the wall, right?”

Tsukishima nods.

“What are you bringing, Kageyama?” Hinata asks as he plops back down.

“The video games.”

“I don’t get why Kageyama has so many multiplayer games when he doesn’t have any friends.” Tsukishima says.

“You really want to sleep outside tonight, don’t you?”

Hinata’s eyes light up. “Bring a scary game!”

“I…don’t think I have any scary games.”

“Ha! That’s right. You get too scared.” Hinata giggles. “I remember that time at Kenma’s.”

“I don’t—“

“He cries. I saw it.” Hinata laughs, rolling out of Kageyama’s long reach.

“I didn’t _cry_. And I wouldn’t call a game full of jump-scares ‘scary’. That’s just cheating. You can’t go around startling people and slap ‘horror’ on the case.”

“See? He’s going to cry again just thinking about it.”

“You watch it or I’m going to buy one just to prove you wrong.”

“You can’t threaten people with things they actually want!”

“If anyone could do that, it’s Kageyama,” Nishinoya giggles and stands, wiping his hands on his shorts. “Look at that face – Jesus. I’m getting out of here before he starts threatening blowjobs.”

A squeaking noise eeks out of Hinata and he claps a hand over his mouth, hiding a wild grin while Kageyama chucks half of an apple at Nishinoya’s back as he flees.

“Now you have to go pick that up. Won’t you feel stupid.” Hinata talks through his fingers.

Kageyama rolls his eyes and stands, retrieving the apple before flinging it into the nearby trashcan, unfazed by the boys’ laughter. And as he shoves Hinata’s head before he retreats into his tent, Hinata has to ignore the crazy jackhammering of his heart and the prickle of a flush after hearing the words ‘blowjob’ and ‘Kageyama’ in the same sentence.

 

* * *

 

 

“Stop running with me!” Hinata pants at Kageyama as they round the track, “I’ll never win this way!”

“Exactly!” Kageyama puffs.

The shorter boy growls and sprints ahead a few feet, quickly caught again by the other.

“Ugh, this isn’t working!” Hinata growls, getting out ahead again.

“Did you—expect me—to just let you—win?” Kageyama manages between rapid breaths.

Hinata grits his teeth and pushes forward, only to be joined immediately.

“Arg!” Hinata huffs, desperately trying to get in front again. He’s going to beat Kageyama at something today even if it kills him. “Wait—we should—we—v—volleyball!”

“What?”

“Volley—ball.” He repeats. “You—and me—“

And suddenly Kageyama is no longer running beside him. Hinata quickly slows to a jog and turns back, leaning his hands down onto his knees to catch his breath and lifting his eyes to Kageyama’s mouth falling open, a stunted syllable hanging between them before he closes his lips and swipes his hair off his sweaty forehead. His eyes drop to the way Kageyama’s chest is still rising and falling heavily.

But only for a second.

“You mean play against each other?” Kageyama asks with a degree of innocent surprise Hinata swears he has never heard from him before. His blue eyes are wide and his hand winds into the front of his hair in a silly display of mild distress.

It’s painfully endearing. He almost says as much, but doesn’t. Instead: “Sure, why not? We’ve still got a couple hours of daylight.” Hinata shrugs, straightening up and ignoring the weird crawl of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. “It might be interesting! Or are you too scared of losing?”

Kageyama blinks and his arms drop limply to his sides. He turns away, face slightly red with clear confusion and for a second Hinata thinks he’s going to say no and he’s preparing to take back the offer before he has to face rejection, but suddenly Hinata is granted that lopsided Kageyama grin and matches it with an excited smile of his own.

“It might be interesting.” Kageyama echoes. “Just promise not to cry when I beat you this time.”

It’s Hinata’s turn to have his mouth fall open stupidly, and for a half of a second he is blinded by hot rage, but when Kageyama brings a hand to his face and drums his fingers against his lips Hinata’s knees turn to jelly and he forgets what he was mad about.

“On second thought,” Kageyama says, eyes lifted to the sky. “I think I want to make you cry.”

Hinata takes a sharp step backwards when those sparkling blue eyes settle back onto his face – shining with something secretive and playful, and it takes Hinata a couple seconds to remember how to speak.

But he doesn’t have to, because Kageyama is suddenly whizzing by him at a startling speed, reaching out to smack his head as he goes.

Hinata ducks at the last moment and bounces back into the chase, racing Kageyama the last couple laps of their mile.

 

* * *

  

 “We—me and—we’re —Kageyama—“ Hinata gasps as they slow to a jog and approach their teammates on the side of the track.

“Um. What?” Yamaguchi asks.

Hinata waits to catch his breath and tries again. “We are going to play against each other. We need—“

“I’m on Hinata’s team!” Tanaka says, running out from behind a tent. “I want to see the look on Kageyama’s face when we destroy him.”

“I’m with the king.” Tsukishima says, reclined on the ground with his eyes closed. Everyone looks at him in surprise. “What?” He asks, looking up.

“You in, Yamaguchi!?” Hinata asks excitedly.

“No thanks. I’d rather not be involved in whatever follows.”

“Nishinoya!? Please!”

“Hell yeah! I wouldn’t miss this! Who will have me?”

“We will.” Kageyama and Hinata both say before narrowing their eyes at each other.

“Aw shucks. Don’t fight over me!”

“Fine. Kageyama, you have him.” Hinata says, looking around and spotting Yuu watching them from the grass a short distance away. “But we get the other Yuu!”

“M-me!?” Yuu starts. “Why—“

“Where are the other first years?” Hinata demands, dancing from foot to foot and looking around.

“I don’t—“

“Okay!” Hinata says, cutting off the blushing first year in his over excitement. “Ennoshitaaa! Come here!” He yells.

“Hinata, don’t yell at our captain!” Yamaguchi whispers, but Hinata is off bounding up to Ennoshita and a group of third-year girls like a puppy begging to play.

He jogs back to the group with a face full of rejection.

“I guess calling it a fight to the death was a bad idea.”

“Well look at him!” Tanaka laughs. “He’s neck-deep in the softball team! He’s a man with priorities.”

“Well hey, three on three works, right!?” Hinata perks up, clapping his hands and looking up at Kageyama. “You ready?”

Hinata dashes away to find a ball without waiting for an answer.

He is practically vibrating with excitement and something a little uncomfortable that he can’t really identify. He can’t believe they’ve never done this before.

The rest of the boys follow and take their positions. Hinata – having won a rather violent round of rock paper scissors – tosses the ball to Yuu for the first serve.

“Come on, Yuu! Show us what Kageyama has been teaching you.” Hinata calls, glancing at Kageyama on the other side of the net.

He has to shove down that anxious feeling again at the unfamiliarity of seeing his teammate from this angle. He chews on the inside of his cheek and looks back at the first year, who is currently staring at the ball in his hands with a look of horror.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…uh…are you sure about this?” Yuu asks, licking his lips nervously.

“Serve the ball!” Tanaka yells.

Startled, Yuu tosses the ball and hits it in a perfect arc, up and over the net, just as Hinata feels the first few drops of rain.

Kageyama jumps and catches the ball, holding under his arm and looking at Hinata, then past him at the sky. The redhead frowns, eyes glued to Kageyama’s face as he sucks in a breath, blue eyes widening in what looks to be some form of mild relief.

“Oh come on! We can play through a little rain!”

“Shouyou…” Nishinoya says, pointing behind the redhead. “I don’t think that’s _a little rain_.”

Hinata’s face falls and he turns slowly.

The dark clouds rolling in don’t even look real. They all jump at the first clap of thunder and suddenly it is absolute chaos.

Students scatter and scream at the sky opens up above them. Kageyama has to pull Hinata off the court before they both break out into a full-on sprint.

“Your tent better be waterproof!” Tsukishima yells over thunder as they run. Chilly wind blows heavy drops into their faces as Hinata attempts to both outrun the rain and these tiny zaps of his own confusing feelings of relief at the sudden downpour.

But running beside Kageyama as they get pelted with water is oddly exhilarating, and he sneaks a glance up at his friend before breaking into a dopey grin.

He wouldn’t mind doing this again sometime.

But he probably shouldn’t say that.

“Waaahhh—“ Hinata shakes his head after they all tumble into the shelter of the tent to Tsukishima’s miffed grumbling about him slinging water everywhere.

Doing his best to keep his eyes off of Kageyama while they all quickly change – and the fact that he is two feet away makes Hinata suddenly feel like the heat from his flushed skin could dry him completely in seconds because _oh my god_ _Kageyama is wet and half naked_ – Hinata peels off his soaked hoodie and grabs at the oversized relay shirt still sitting on his sleeping bag, hastily tugging it on before digging in his bag for some dry shorts.

When Tsukishima giggles from behind him he wonders if his skin is actually steaming and whips his head around, pink-cheeked and narrow-eyed. “What?” He snaps.

“Nothing.” Tsukishima smirks and pulls on a dry shirt. “I’m a little disappointed. That could have been quite an interesting game.”

Hinata worries his bottom lip before turning back to his bag. “Yeah.” He says quietly, pulling out a pair of light blue gym shorts. “But the rain might stop!” He turns to Kageyama, who is now back into a black long sleeve t-shirt and safe from Hinata’s lechery. “Right?”

“I didn’t realize you wanted to get your ass kicked again so badly.” Kageyama says as he busies himself with drying his hair. “I mean, I didn’t really want—“

“Oh my god _what!?_ ” Hinata barks when he hears both Yamaguchi and Tsukishima begin to snicker.

“Nothing.” They say in unison.

“Is there mud on my face or something?” Hinata asks worriedly, looking up at Kageyama.

Kageyama studies his face for a second and shrugs, and Hinata dives into his sleeping bag, wrapping himself up like a burrito. “You all suck, you know that?”

“Now what?” Kageyama asks while Hinata pouts in his cocoon. “They can’t expect us to run in this.”

On cue, Yachi pokes her head in from beneath an umbrella. “Hey guys. No running until the lightning stops, but the storm is supposed to pass soon! I guess they are opening the school now, too, for dinner and stuff.”

“How soon is soon?” Hinata grumbles, flopping back and unwinding himself from the sleeping bag, but Yachi has already moved on, only to be immediately replaced by Tanaka and Nishinoya stumbling into the tent.

“I have my tablet!” Tanaka announces proudly as Nishinoya throws some Doritos at Yamaguchi. “Let’s watch movies!”

“I’m not watching porn with you.” Kageyama mutters as Hinata sits up.

“I doubt I have the kind of porn you’re into anyway.” Tanaka says absently as the boys gather around the tablet.

Hinata rolls onto his stomach and scooches up next to Tanaka as he scrolls through movie options.

“What do we want? Comedy? Horror? Action?” Tanaka asks as Kageyama settles next to Hinata, resting his chin in his hands and peering over at the screen.

“Horror!” Hinata tries to say but it comes out as more of a squeak with Kageyama’s shoulder pressing against his.

“What’s with you and scary shit all of a sudden?” Kageyama asks.

“This is the perfect time for it!” Hinata insists, gesturing up with his eyes as thunder rumbles quietly.

“Sorry, Kageyama but I have to agree.” Nishinoya says from the other side of Tanaka. “You guys watching?” He asks Tsukishima and Yamaguchi.

“No.” Tsukishima says with his face already in a book.

“I’m going to take a nap.” Yamaguchi hands the Doritos over to Hinata, who snatches them happily.

“’kay.” Hinata says, pushing chips into his mouth. “We’ll try to keep Kageyama from screaming.”

“Shut up, dumbass.”

“Ooo that one!” Nishinoya points excitedly to some slasher. “I’m in the mood for blood!”

Hinata has to stifle a gasp when Kageyama shifts beside him, pressing his hip against Hinata’s thigh to get a better view of the screen.

 _Why not just lay on top of me!_ He almost says, but doesn’t. Because now he can’t stop thinking about how that might feel so he shoves more Doritos into his mouth.

Hinata spends the first twenty minutes of the movie being overly aware of his own breathing and the heat coming from Kageyama’s body, and he eventually comes to terms with the fact that he has no idea what’s going on.

“Who’s that?” He whispers.

“The main character, idiot.”

“What’s he doing?”

“You’re watching the same thing I am!”

“Yeah, but…okay now who is that?”

“Pay attention!”

 “I am!”

“If you two don’t shut up none of us will know what’s going on.” Tanaka snaps.

“Yeah, dumbass. Shut up.”

“ _You_ shut up!”

“You—“

“SHUT UP!” Nishinoya and Tanaka both yell.

Tsukishima snorts.

Hinata hunches down and tries to focus on the screen but it’s just impossible with Kageyama jostling his arm every time he moves. He’s too close and restless and _so warm_ against his side. Has he always been this warm?

“Stop squirming.” Hinata hisses with a subtle incline of his head. “You’re distracting me.”

He accepts the quiet, murmured apology and goes to work actively trying to focus on the movie. Once he watches for a few uninterrupted minutes he realizes it is rather cool; it is _actually_ pretty scary (for being on a tablet) and he gets all amped up during the violent parts. He and Nishinoya exchange ‘ah’s and ‘oo’s at all the gory stabbings when Tanaka and Kageyama cover their eyes, and they get all quiet to appreciate the tense creepiness that descends during the lack of action.

At some point Tsukishima had switched on the portable lantern, and the eerie yellowish glow only added to the atmosphere of the movie.

Losing himself in the last scene, Hinata licks his lips and leans forward as the hero traverses the dark house, searching for a way out. The only sounds are the creak of the floorboards under his own feet and his ragged, injured breathing. He can see the door to freedom at the end of the hallway. Covered in blood and sweat with only a thin, rusty pipe as his last-resort weapon, he creeps silently along the wall. Hinata holds his breath as he gets closer to salvation…closer…closer…almost there…and then

“Hey!”

“ **AH**!” Hinata and Kageyama fly both backwards into the side of the tent and Hinata clutches at the other boy, brown eyes wide and darting around, finally landing on the source of the voice as Tanaka and Nishinoya howl with laughter.

“What the hell, Yachi!?” Hinata demands, releasing Kageyama’s arm and scooting sideways in his embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean to scare you!” Yachi giggles as she ducks through the flap. Yamaguchi sits up, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Kageyama flops onto his stomach and buries his red face in his folded arms with a low grumble.

“I just wanted to let you guys know that the storm passed, so you can get back to running!”

Kageyama answers with an indiscernible grunt and Nishinoya stretches as Yachi leaves the tent. “I didn’t even realize it stopped raining.”

“Think it’s too dark to continue our game?” Tanaka asks.

“They’ve got the stadium lights on, but it’s probably like a swamp out there.” Hinata replies peeking out of the tent before sitting cross-legged in the center of his friends. He leans his elbows onto his knees and rests his chin in his hands. “Whose turn is it to run, anyway?”

“I guess I should go find out. It might be mine, actually.” Tanaka says, raising onto his knees. He glances at Hinata and does a double take, looks at Kageyama and back again. “Um. Hinata?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you wearing Kageyama’s shirt?”

“Huh!?” Hinata shoots up straight and looks down at the front of the shirt before whipping his head around, straining his neck over his shoulder stupidly to try to see the back of himself. “I’m not!”

Kageyama pops his head up, scowling at Hinata’s desperate tugging on his shirt to see the back of it. “Yeah, that’s definitely mine.”

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi burst into simultaneous laughter and Hinata rounds on them. “You knew!" He shrieks. "Why didn’t you say anything!?”

“For this. This moment right here.” Tsukishima grins like a jackass.

“You guys are assholes.” Hinata mutters, shimmying out of the shirt and throwing it at Kageyama’s face. “Where the hell is mine then?” He snatches his bag and rifles through it in obvious panic while Kageyama blinks down at the shirt in his hands.

“I didn’t say you had to take it off.” He mumbles.

Hinata makes a strangled noise of acknowledgement that he’s sure doesn’t qualify as speech as a heat crawls up the back of his neck. He plucks his last article of clean dry clothing from the bag and pulls it on hurriedly, hiding his face for as long as humanly possible in the thin yellow t-shirt and avoiding Kageyama’s irritated gaze. His heart is pounding out of control.

But now Ennoshita is poking his head in now to announce that dinner service ends in twenty minutes and that it is indeed Tanaka’s turn to run.

“I-I’ll get you some food, Tanaka!” Hinata says in a rush, rolling out of the tent into the dark after their captain departs. He’s sprinting across the field when he hears Kageyama yelling for him but he doesn’t turn back. His shoes squelch into the wet grass as he kicks up water and mud as he tries to flee from the deep blossom of shame darkening his face. Knowing that he’s overreacting, knowing that he isn’t able to hide it. Knowing that the embarrassment he’s feeling is written all over his face and if Kageyama were to see him right now it would be all-too telling.

Because it’s not like he hasn’t accidentally worn his teammates’ clothes before. So why else would he be so worked up over it now?

He has to stop this overreacting nonsense. It’s what’s going to be his undoing – he knows that. He can beat this.

He can beat this. And now would be a fantastic time to start.

He sets his jaw and slows to a jog when he hears Kageyama call him again. He allows himself a quick shiver and wraps his arms around himself because A) it’s freaking cold outside and B) he was just wearing Kageyama’s shirt for like two hours. With a deep, stabilizing breath he shakes himself and turns to his teammate with a characteristically wide smile.

_I can do this._

“Let’s hurry! We can try to sneak out food together for some midnight snacks!”

Kageyama seems momentarily caught off guard and he freezes. His eyes get round and wide, but his face quickly softens and Hinata can’t help but take note of how stunningly beautiful he looks in the low light of the field. The soft bloom in his cheeks from the quick run lights face with a certain incandescence, and his eyes are shiny and bright in contrast to the darkness surrounding them. He wets his full lips with intent to speak but he sighs out a short little sound that might be a laugh instead and runs a hand through his hair as he looks away.

Hinata feels his smile falter at the fluttering of his heart and he quickly turns away, gesturing towards the school. “Come on, before it’s all gone and we have to resort to cannibalism! You guys would probably try to eat me first.”

Kageyama makes a weird noise that Hinata has never heard come out of a person before because _yeah, what the fuck did I just say?_ as he falls into step beside him.

“I mean, there’s no way I would taste very good!” Hinata laughs nervously, making it worse and tripping into a forced, casual skip. “And just because I’m tiny doesn’t mean I would be easy to take down! So don’t even think about it!” _Why am I still talking?_ “I don’t even know where you’d find enough meat on me for that! Well actually…I bet my legs would be the best—“

“Please.” Kageyama groans, palming his face before breaking into a jog. “Please shut up.”

“Yep!” Hinata chirps, grateful for once for Kageyama’s annoyance as he runs past him towards the school.

 

* * *

 

It takes some strategizing and a diversion or two, but the boys manage to obtain enough food and hurry back to the tent with arms full of snacks and drinks.

After dinner the six boys remain in the tent for a couple hours, playing cards by lamplight and watching another movie that doesn’t seem to hold anyone’s attention as they chat about upcoming volleyball events and more about Nishinoya’s birthday. Hinata is excited to see the former third-years and hear all of their stories about being college athletes.

They try telling ghost stories, but no one is able to keep a straight face, let alone even _pretend_ to be scared…even though Tsukishima’s story is rather disturbing. Something about a new bride getting locked in a trunk in her attic while wearing her wedding dress and the husband finding her corpse years later.

It makes Hinata’s skin crawl, but the look of pure terror on Kageyama’s face is too cute and he ends up laughing despite his own unease.  

When Tanaka turns the conversation to hot girls in their school, Hinata digs out a sports magazine and he excludes himself from the boob conversation in favor of catching up on his favorite pro players.

His ears prick when a question is aimed at Kageyama – something about butts or legs or something, he wasn’t really listening – and Hinata’s eyes flicker up just as the taller boy shrugs.

He hears Tsukishima snort and goes back to his magazine with a mild pang of hurt in the pit of his stomach – but he isn’t stupid. Obviously Kageyama is into girls but it’s still painful to think about – but he isn’t able to focus on feeling sorry for himself for long because Kageyama plops next to him and asks what he’s reading.

They pour through the magazine together and Hinata finds himself stifling a yawn as Yamaguchi leaves to run his mile.

“Hey, it’s barely midnight.” Kageyama pokes Hinata in the shoulder. “You can’t fall asleep yet.”

“I’m not falling asleep!”

“You’ll never last.”

“Will too!”

“You won’t.”

“I’ll definitely last longer than you!”

“Not possible.”

“We’ll see then, won’t we?”

“I knew it.” Tsukishima mutters from behind his book.

“Shut up, Tsukishima. You don’t know anything.” Kageyama snaps.

“Oh my, I didn’t realize the king was so touchy these days.”

“One more word, I swear to god. Yamaguchi isn’t here to save you this time so I suggest you shut your mouth.”

The blond raises his eyebrows smugly and taps his glasses up the bridge of his nose before turning a page. Not bothering to look up he says, “Save _me_ , huh? You sure he was saving _me?_ ”

Kageyama wets his lips and stares at the ground. Hinata furrows his brow and glances quickly back and forth between his two teammates; he is very _very_ confused and is about to say as much when Nishinoya pipes up.

“Oh leave him alone, you dick. No one understands whatever vague shit you’re trying to get at and no one cares, either.”

This seems to intrigue Tsukishima. He drops the book in his lap and narrows his eyes at Kageyama. “One of us does.”

 Kageyama remains bizarrely silent and Hinata could swear that his ears look red but it might just be the lighting.

“You’re _so cool,_ Tsukishima.” Nishinoya rolls his eyes.

Alright. Hinata has had enough.

“Hey,” He looks to Kageyama with a frown, “What—“

“Guys we’re playing flashlight tag with the baseball team!” Yuu announces, suddenly appearing in the opening of the tent. “You guys want in?”

Hinata sees tension in Kageyama’s shoulders wind its way out as Nishinoya and Tanaka answer affirmatively.

“You guys coming?” Tanaka asks as he makes his way out into the dark.

“I don’t have a flashlight.” Hinata says with a pout.

“You don’t actually _need_ a flashlight to play, dumbass.”

“Then why call it that?” The redhead asks as Kageyama leaves the tent as well. “You coming, Tsukishima?”

The other boy grunts a ‘no’ and Hinata crawls to the exit.

Stepping out into the chilly air, Hinata makes mental note to ask what’s going on between Kageyama and Tsukishima, but right now he has some non-flashlight tag to play.

 

* * *

 

By the time he makes it back to the tent Hinata is dead on his feet and it’s almost 2:30. Running around like a crazy person with his teammates and the other students was really fun and it kept him relatively warm in his t-shirt and shorts, but now his sweat is starting to cool him off and he can't stop shivering.

Wrapping himself in his sleeping bag as Kageyama switches on the lantern, Hinata wishes he had packed just one more sweatshirt. Maybe he would normally be fine with asking one of his teammates to borrow something warmer, but then again he didn’t _normally_ accidentally wear shirts belonging to the guy he was in love with so he’s just a little insecure about making any clothing-related requests.

He supposes his sleeping bag will suffice for now, and the tent seems to do a decent job of warming when there are several of them packed inside…but okay, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are mysteriously absent.

Hinata’s eyes dart to the corners in subdued panic, as if Tsukishima could possibly hide his giraffe body inside a fucking tent.

It seems like all of the air is being slowly squeezed from his lungs as he confirms that he and Kageyama are by themselves and his mouth runs dry; he slides his eyes over to where Kageyama is lying on his back, hands folded behind his head with a leg crossed over his knee, bobbing his foot restlessly.

This is weird. He was fine before. He’s been _fine_ before being alone with Kageyama. Well, during the day time, anyway. But if he were to be at home in his bed right now he would in all likelihood be lying awake and thinking dirty thoughts about his teammate, and maybe if he had any knowledge of things like classical conditioning it would make explaining away his nervousness a lot easier.

But he doesn’t, so the only thing he can do is freak the fuck out.

With what little breath he has left Hinata tries to speak but words catch on his dry throat, scraping to the surface in an abrupt cough that seems to startle Kageyama and his foot drops to the ground and he rolls his head towards Hinata with a look of question.

“So uh…” Hinata remembers to suck in a breath this time, though biting back the waver in the two short syllables seems to have slipped his mind and he flushes, swallowing under Kageyama’s inquisitive stare. “A-are Nishinoya and Tanaka coming back?”

Kageyama shrugs and turns his eyes back to the ceiling. “Nishinoya said he was tired. But I don’t know.”

“Oh.” Hinata pulls his hands out of the sleeping bag and pretends to examine a hangnail, but really he’s willing his hands to stop shaking. “So…where are Yamaguchi and Tsukishima?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Kageyama bristles, sitting up and folding his arms.

Hinata feels himself break into a sweat as he fumbles for things to say. Now Kageyama looks mad at him for some reason and Hinata feels a jolt of defensive anger.

But as if Kageyama can read his mind he drops his arms before rubbing at his tired eyes and sighing deeply. The pads of his fingers press against the tops of his cheek bones and he relaxes into himself. “Sorry.”

Hinata blinks, puzzled as he was just preparing for a nice bout of late-night arguing but now his stomach is fluttering at the way Kageyama is dragging the pads of his fingers down the side of his neck. He tears his eyes away and shakes himself before asking, “So what do you want to do?”

Kageyama seems to zone out momentarily, fingers stilled at his collar as his eyes narrow towards the corner of the tent. And suddenly his eyes flicker to Hinata, a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He scoffs. “What do I want to do?”

“Well yeah!” Hinata wiggles his way out of his cocoon and crawls over to his bag, which is frighteningly closer to Kageyama than he realized. He powers through anyway. “I have another magazine we could look at or something?”

Kageyama blinks at him, resting an elbow on his knee and cradling his face in his hand.

“Er—uh…” The redhead feels scrutinized and it’s making him itch with panic again. “Or,” He says quickly, “I could ask Tanaka if we could borrow his tablet and watch another movie or something?”

“Or something?” Kageyama deadpans.

“What?”

“Nothing.” The taller boy responds, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck.  “Dumbass. Yeah. That. A movie.”

“O-okay! Be right back!”

Hinata scrambles out of the tent, tripping almost immediately in the darkness outside of the tent and landing in the wet grass with a quiet thud.

He rolls onto his back and grabs at his thrashing heart with a trembling hand.

_It’s okay. You’re okay. This is just like all those other times we’ve been alone together. At night. In the dark._

He groans and presses his hands against his eyes. Maybe if he begs really hard Tanaka and Nishinoya will let him sleep with them. He’s small; he wouldn’t take up much room. Or maybe he will drop dead of a heart attack or a stray asteroid will take him out before he makes it back to the tent. Or maybe he should stop being such a laughable coward and just stomp back in there and profess his love and die of a broken heart just to get it over with.

Or _maybe_ he should just go get the goddamn tablet and get back to acting like everything is normal.

_Dumbass._

Eh. It just doesn’t sound as good when he says it.

Brushing himself off, he steels himself and makes his way toward the others’ tent.

* * *

 

“I thought maybe you got lost.” Kageyama says when Hinata pops back into the glow of the tent, the borrowed device in tow. His gaze pulls lazily from the screen of his cellphone to the redhead and his eyes become instantly wide with alarm. He sits up abruptly. “What happened to you?”

“Huh? Hinata looks down at himself, catching a glimpse of muddy, grass-stained knees and a damp shirt. “Oh…I fell.” He smiles sheepishly.

“You are such a little kid.” Kageyama mumbles. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Nope!” Hinata smiles wide and proudly and plops down. _I’m freezing._ But he doesn’t actually say that.

But now he can’t burrow back into the heavenly warmth of his sleeping bag because he has to pretend that he’s big and tough and not slowly dying of hypothermia _because he’s an idiot_ , so he situates himself on top of the plushy fabric with his legs crossed as Kageyama moves closer so they can scroll through the movies.

 _Everything is normal._ He tells himself. _It’s all totally, completely normal. See how_ normal _this all is? Picking a movie with a friend, how much more_ normal _can you get? Heh heh, that’s me! Hinata_ ‘normal’ _Shouyou. Yep. This is so SO painfully boring and normal and why wouldn’t it be? He’s just some normal, ordinary guy with a kind of nice body and an okay face and a really_ really _nice smell and perfect abs and_ GOD _he smells good. WHY? WHY does he smell so good after all that—_

“I never knew people actually talked to themselves until I met you.” Kageyama scooches even closer and there he is again, pressed right up against Hinata’s shoulder all soft and WARM and Hinata suppresses a shiver.

He fails.

“I’m not talking to myself!”

“Well you certainly weren’t reading. You’ve been staring at the same movie for like a minute. Give me this.” Kageyama yanks the tablet out of Hinata’s grip, scrolling rapidly and then stabbing the screen with his finger and jamming it back into Hinata’s hands. “There. Happy with that?”

Hinata wrinkles his nose and peers down at the screen. “Another scary thing?”

Kageyama moves away and stretches out onto his stomach and pops his hands beneath his chin. “Well…” A hand gestures vaguely in the air. “The atmosphere and shit, right?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Or would you rather watch a romantic comedy?”

“W-what! Why—would—EW! Wha—“ A sharp intake of breath goes horribly awry and brown eyes bulge as Hinata chokes.

Kageyama rolls onto his side and curls his lip, watching Hinata gasp and sputter. “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m obviously joking.”

Hinata forces one last cough and shakily crawls his way over to their stolen snacks, plucking a bottle of juice from their assortment and rapidly chugging half of it before taking a deep breath and turning back to the other, who is watching him warily. “You, um, want anything?” Hinata asks hoarsely.

Kageyama does that owlish blink thing before slowly dropping his head against his folded arms, still peeking at Hinata with narrowed eyes.

“Um…okay.” Hinata caps his juice and drags himself back over with his pulse singing under his skin, maintaining what he considers to be a casual distance from the setter and matching his position, splayed out on the sleeping bags with the tablet propped between them.

Hinata is able to focus on the movie a little better this time, with about a foot of space between them he isn’t as self-conscious of the movements of his own body. The only problem is he can’t really see. So…

“Who is that?”

“Seriously?”

“Well!”

“You can’t see, can you?”

“I can see just fine!”

“You’re like ten feet away!”

“Am not.”

Kageyama huffs and grabs the tablet before jamming himself back against Hinata, dumping the screen in front of his face. Hinata flinches.

His jumpiness earns him barely a side-eye glance, and he goes back to watching the movie with Kageyama leaned against him for the third time that night.

This movie is bad. It’s really bad. But it’s adorable how Kageyama still has to cover his eyes every few minutes and Hinata can’t help but giggle at the taller boy’s reactions.

“Why did you pick this if you’re so scared?” Hinata teases in a whisper. He’s starting to feel the physical effects of exhaustion and it’s actually helping him relax. His heart has even resumed somewhat of a natural rhythm and he’s feeling rather comfortable; Kageyama’s body heat is keeping him nice and toasty, and even if he feels himself nodding off every once in a while he’s determined to stay awake. Not because of their half-assed challenge from a couple hours ago, but because he’s finally able to enjoy himself.

He doesn’t really want this to end.

“Because you like it, idiot.” Kageyama hisses from behind his hands.

“Since when do you care about the things I like?”

Kageyama pulls his hands from his face and lolls his head over, turning slightly with his eyes trained on the screen. “Don’t make me sound like such an asshole.”

“You _are_ an asshole.” Hinata grins sleepily.

Kageyama shoves into the other’s shoulder, knocking him over onto his side with a giggle. Hinata lies there for a moment, flopped over with eyes closed and a wide smile. He’s grateful. Grateful for the sleepiness. Grateful for this moment. Grateful that maybe he’s overcome his stupid nerves and can now just enjoy being here. This guy is his friend. He’s his best friend.

And he really _really_ loves him.

When he opens his eyes Kageyama is looking at him with a sly smile. “Falling asleep?”

“You wish.”

Hinata rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. Then he remembers something. “What’s going on with you and Tsukishima?”

The only answer he receives is some muted screaming coming from the tablet so he lolls his head to the side and blinks at the other. He blinks again. Damn his eyes feel tired.

Kageyama is staring intensely at the floor of the tent and chewing on his lip. He swallows. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“He just seemed to get under your skin a lot today.” Hinata shrugs and turns his attention back to the ceiling. “It’s been a while since he’s affected you like that. Just curious.”

“I’m sick of him being such a smarmy bastard all the time!” Kageyama spits.

“Yeah but—“ Hinata’s hands fly to his face as a laugh bursts past his lips as he looks over. “Did you just say ‘smarmy’?”

“So what if I did?”

Another laugh hisses its way through Hinata’s teeth before he loses complete control, letting loose a string of high-pitched giggles that segue into flat-out cackling and he is soon rolling around the floor of the tent beneath a very puzzled gaze.

“Th-that’s not funny—I—I’m sorry! Just—hah!” Hinata stammers in his laughter. “I think I’m just—just a little delirious!” He says, struggling to breathe and speak amidst the hilarity. “Who would have ever though—t-that you—YOU would come up—with the PERFECT word for—that—that asshole!”

Kageyama opens his mouth to say something but closes it quickly, averting his tired eyes while he claps a hand over his mouth.

Hinata sits up dizzily, his laughter dissipating to a mild titter at the gesture and it takes a second for him to realize that Kageyama is laughing, too. The taller boy winds his free arm around his middle as he begins to shake. His tired eyes light up as he looks back at Hinata, dropping his hand as his laughter overtakes him completely and he collapses against the floor.

The sight is just too precious for Hinata’s heart to take and he loses himself again, joining Kageyama on the floor as they roll around, laughing at absolutely nothing, neck-deep in sleep-deprived delirium.

Once his body starts to scream for oxygen he rolls over onto his stomach and does his best to get a hold of himself. He feels only moderately insane, his brain is fuzzy from lack of sleep and his body feels too relaxed – limp. He rests his face on the floor and stares unseeing towards the side of the tent while Kageyama stills beside him. But it doesn’t take long before his small body is wracked with crazed giggling again.

“What are you laughing at now?”

“Pfft…ants.” Hinata laughs, his eyes following the few small bugs near his face.

“Ants!?” Kageyama sits up, his face twisted in disgust. “Get them out of here!”

“Hey!” Hinata jumps swiftly to his feet and sticks his hands to his hips. “Ants need rest too, Kageyama!”

“Well tell them to get their own tent!”

And for a few seconds they just stare at each other with eyes narrowed before they lose their minds again, both bursting out laughing and Hinata topples over while Kageyama rolls out of the way.

Hinata can feel tears spilling down his face and he can’t remember the last time he laughed this hard. It’s not funny. It’s stupid. This is all so stupid but he is _so happy_ that he just doesn’t care. He hears himself wheezing something about ant tents and Kageyama makes desperate gasping noises between clutching at his stomach, tears pricking his own eyes.

Kageyama finally drops down face first and breathes deeply, tremors still working their way through his body when Hinata flops his body next to him, propping his head on Kageyama’s back like a pillow. Quiet exhaustion seems to blanket them temporarily as they remain motionless for a few moments.

“Kageyama, I think you’re lying in the ants.”

“I don’t even care.” Kageyama mumbles tiredly.

“Gross, Kageyama! Get up!” Hinata rolls onto his knees.

“Nooo five more minutes.”

Hinata starts giggling hysterically again and grabs Kageyama’s hand, tugging his arm ineffectually in an effort to pull him up.

The setter flips onto his back and yanks hard, pulling Hinata down with a quiet grunt and pins the smaller boy to his chest, laughing in their struggle as Hinata tries to wiggle away, yelling about ant carcasses.

Hinata finally stills and rests the side of his head against the other’s broad chest, curling his legs up next to him and sighing contently and sleepily with eyes closed. “Mmmn. You’re warm.”

“You’re bizarrely heavy.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“You have the density of a collapsed star.”

“So I'm hot now.” He murmurs.

“False.”

“I’ve never heard you laugh like that.” Hinata says lazily. “It’s…nice.”

Kageyama hums. “Don’t get used to it.”

“You know,” Hinata says, “Even if we ran the same number of miles I still technically ran more than you.”

“How do you figure?”

“My legs are shorter so I took more steps. So I win.”

Kageyama exhales a quick laugh that rustles Hinata’s hair. “I guess so.”

Planting his hands on Kageyama’s chest Hinata pops up with wild eyes. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with you? Are you sick? You’re dying aren’t you!”

“Shut up.” Kageyama mumbles.

“Okay so what do I win?” Hinata asks, dropping back down.

“My undying…respect.”

“Pfft. Lame.”

A warm hand finds its way into his hair and he sighs again, not caring how weird this probably is because he’s too warm and comfortable and happy. He actually nuzzles into Kageyama’s palm and he knows he could definitely fall asleep like this.

He can feel Kageyama's heart beating beneath his cheek, strong and quick with the after-effects of their laughing fit. It's soothing and pleasant - strong and quick and beautiful just like his setter. And Hinata absently considers saying as much. But he doesn't.

Only a few minutes pass before he feels Kageyama nudge him.

“Hey.”

“Mmn.”

“Hinata.”

Fingers slip gently through his hair, combing the strands off his face as his eyelids flutter open. When the hand pulls away softly he raises his head, trading a bleary, bloodshot gaze and an affectionate smile with his setter before a cold splash of reality crashes over him like a harsh wave.

His eyes fly open wide and he sucks in a breath, his blood spiking with a rush of scorching adrenalin that screams beneath his skin and makes his ears ring with the threat of danger; Kageyama must realize the intimacy of this situation at the exact same moment because his hand freezes a centimeter from the side of Hinata’s face. His lips part and Hinata knows the alarm in Kageyama’s face must reflect his own.

Hinata’s voice crackles like static in his throat and just as he’s fumbling for some kind of explanation the tent flap is pushed aside and Kageyama shoves Hinata off of him.

The smaller boy hits the floor hard as Tsukishima and Yamaguchi make their way inside.

“What are you guys doing?” Yamaguchi asks as Hinata pops up onto his elbows, not entirely sure where to look.

“Nothing.” Kageyama scowls. “Hinata fell.”

“Uh huh.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes.

“Hinata, it’s your turn to run.”

The redhead blinks rapidly and furrows his brow. His gaze flicks quickly to the setter before he clears his throat and ducks out of the tent without another word.

 

* * *

 

Hinata can barely move when he stumbles back into the tent. He’s freezing and wet, he’s tired, his chest aches, his face is slick from confused, angry tears and he’s so glad that the other boys seem to be sleeping. He squints through tears and hazy darkness down at his spot on the floor, wishing he didn’t have to be next to Kageyama because _what the actual fuck._

Kageyama stirs while Hinata wraps himself into his sleeping bag. Shivering, sad, and angry at himself, Hinata kicks at the other boy from inside his blankets. “It’s your turn.” He grumbles, slithering as far away from Kageyama as possible.

Hinata hides his face while another tear slips free as Kageyama rises silently, ducking into the dark without a look back.


	7. Chapter 7

Awake.

Kageyama is very _awake._

Back inside the dark tent he sits cross-legged on his sleeping bag, leaning back on his hands with his head lolled back, the hood on his sweatshirt pulled down over his eyes because he really can’t figure out where else to look. The tremulous slide of his palm over his face does little to settle his nerves.

Because what the fuck.

_What the fuck._

He wandered through his last mile in some sort of stupefied jog, or maybe he fucking crawled the one, the five, the ten-thousand laps he didn’t bother to keep track of or remember because it didn’t matter at this point.

He doesn’t even recall getting back to the tent and he wonders if he even really left at all. But he must have because Hinata is asleep.

And no longer crying.

His head drops lazily to the side without his permission and he runs a hand through his hair to slide the hood from his head, eyes drifting through the darkness to settle on Hinata’s sleeping face. Kageyama groans deeply, quietly, and sits up to rest his face in his hands.

This is getting out of hand.

_'So what do you want to do?'_

_Should I answer honestly? Are you fucking retarded? Are you trying to kill me?_ Were some of the more 'PG-13' answers he could have given. 

Though there certainly were others...and thinking about himself actually saying them made his face all hot.

How would Hinata respond? How  _could_ he respond? No, the idiot would probably just burst into flames.

But in another life...maybe...maybe if Kageyama said  _just_ the right thing then maybe...he would blush for sure, maybe stammer a bit...then maybe...

Okay no. Thinking about something like that wasn't the best idea right now.

Besides, he almost got caught last time at training camp when he did just a little too much  _thinking._

In another life though...maybe showing Hinata how he feels wouldn't be so gut-wrenchingly impossible.

Unfortunately...

At a quiet whimper he chances a sideways glance. Hinata tries to burrow further into his sleeping bag but a violent bout of shivering makes it clear that all the wiggling and self-swaddling in the world won’t compensate for the fact that he went to sleep with damp, inadequate clothing.

Like Kageyama couldn’t tell he was practically freezing to death.  

_Dumbass._

Kageyama wants to reach out and shake him. Convulse the little shit into waking so he can scream in his face.

But really he wants to shake himself. He can’t believe he did it again.

Wait. No. He _can_ believe he did it again.

God. He’s such a piece of shit.

And therein lies the problem. Well, _problems_. He has to get ahold of himself. He _has_ to. 

But…

The smaller boy whines again and tightens the blanket around his shoulders.

It’s _so hard._

At first Kageyama thought Hinata was teasing him. There was no way a human being could be so painfully oblivious without it being some ironic joke at his expense. But it became clear months ago that: (1) Hinata would never be that cruel, and (2) Hinata is just _that stupid._

It’s almost laughable that Hinata seems to be under the impression that he’s been successfully hiding his feelings.  Please – he’s an emotional bullhorn.

But as obvious as Hinata has been about his little crush, he's also been wildly inconsistent. There have been several instances throughout the past few months that have left Kageyama in various states of doubt. That maybe,  _maybe_ Hinata's feelings have all just been wishful thinking. That his skittishness doesn't come from harboring any secret feelings but rather from some kind of fear or - heaven forbid - an actual dislike for Kageyama.

Like when the concept of Hinata trying to kiss Kageyama was so fucking hilarious that Hinata had a laughing fit in the middle of the hallway. It wasn't fake, either. Kageyama knows when Hinata is faking his amusement and that was definitely some real laughter.

Even what just transpired between them less than an hour ago...the moment had been perfect. But the look of absolute horror that crossed Hinata's face right before Kageyama touched his cheek was so startling to him that it sucked any and all possibility that the moment may have contained right out of existence.

So maybe Kageyama has been wrong all this time.

But no. No! He can't be! He's caught the way he looks at him. He's noticed...no! Just NO! He CANNOT be wrong about it!

Can he?

_Fuck._

Is all of this weird behavior just a symptom of how maddeningly stupid Hinata is? Does he not understand what his actions have been suggesting? What those not-at-all-secret side glances and willingness to let Kageyama touch him actually mean?

But thank god – _thank god_ he’s so stupid because Kageyama knows he hasn’t exactly been subtle, either.

He just can’t help himself.

Tsukishima may have been the first one on the team to notice that Kageyama’s feelings toward the little redhead had…evolved. He can’t be sure if Yamaguchi worked it out on his own or if he was told, but as much of a dick Tsukishima is he’s not the type to blab someone else’s secrets.

No, he’ll just tactfully torture them to death instead. But he wouldn’t publicly tease Kageyama if he thought Hinata would catch on.

In fact, Tsukishima might have recognized Kageyama’s feelings even sooner than he did himself.

But Kageyama didn’t care who figured it out as long as it wasn’t Hinata. Because…

Because.

Fucking  _because._

He feels sick to his stomach.

At another shiver Kageyama has _had it_ and he smacks his hands against the ground, not giving a shit if he wakes anyone but he doesn’t so he whips off his sweatshirt and flings it at Hinata, moderately impressed at the way he manages to drape it over the other’s body despite his haphazard toss.

He can almost hear Hinata making a toss joke in his head as he straightens his t-shirt over his abdomen, but he is distracted by the little moan that drags its way from Hinata’s mouth. Hinata wiggles a little in his sleeping bag before stilling and sighs almost contently into his pillow

Eyes widening in the dark, Kageyama gives all of his attention to the small boy as if he would disappear if he were to do otherwise. The hurt in his stomach migrates to his chest when he realizes that the moan wasn’t a moan but rather a mumbled version of his name.

However he’s only allowed a few seconds worth suffering before his attention is pulled to little fingers peeking their way out of the top of Hinata’s sleeping bag. Kageyama watches as they grope around delicately before crumpling into the sleeve draped over Hinata’s shoulder.

It’s almost adorable the way Hinata’s small fist tugs the sleeve up under his chin and Kageyama’s heart clenches at the sight, but suddenly the whole sweatshirt is sucked into the sleeping bag and Hinata goes right back to shivering.

_Oh FUCK you._

Kageyama palms his face and leaves it there, his heart hammering at the overwhelming emotion bubbling inside of him.

_Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him._

He looks at him.

_Shit._

With a heavy sigh he drops his hands limply against his sleeping bag, gaze pinned to the pathetic shivering form beside him.

His eyes slide to his other teammates on the far side of the tent and then back again. He winds his fingers into his hair in distress, trying to mentally outrun what he’s thinking.

It’s really _really_ getting out of hand.

He accepts defeat with a heavy sigh and drops onto his back. Gentle. He’s been _trying_ to be gentle, and he’s sure that’s where the ‘soft hands’ outburst came from a couple days ago. His stomach swoops at the memory but he can’t let himself be happy for more than a second because tonight he went ahead and panicked again, hurting Hinata in the process.

He places a hand on his chest where he can still feel the warmth from Hinata’s body.

Fuck that felt good. 

 _Alright._ He thinks, rolling onto his side when Hinata whimpers again. He chews his lip.

_Alright…maybe only for a minute._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata gets creepy.

“Mnn.”

Hinata wakes before cracking his eyes. The weight of a pleasant exhaustion is still heavy on his chest and he squeezes his eyes shut, nestling back into his pillows before the peek of the early-morning sun rouses him completely. His pulse beats at a dull rhythm, the ache in his chest is barely noticeable in this moment as he vaguely recalls a hazy memory from a few hours ago – cold and wet, his face tight and eyes puffy from crying. But maybe it was all a dream because he’s warm and comfortable now, tucked in all snug and toasty and safe from whatever nightmares his love-sick heart unleashed.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this cozy beneath the hefty drag of fatigue; not minding the intrusive morning, not caring that he sort of feels like he was hit by a bus because he’s just…content.

He shuffles his body back even further and relaxes into his bed with a soft sigh, bobbing back under the surface of sleep.

 

* * *

 

A shifting sensation jostles him from his slumber and he fades back in slowly, lazily, his head fuzzy and body relaxed, warm, his eyes blinking rapidly against the soft orange glow of… wait, orange?

_My room isn’t orange._

_Wait._

Every one of Hinata’s senses comes screeching back at once, screaming from the vapor of sleep with a hot white flash and dragging him unceremoniously up into the tent he is currently sharing with three of his teammates; two of whom he can see still sleeping peacefully. The other one…

This is _not_ his bed.

_Wait._

He closes his eyes against this realization. It wasn’t a dream; he _had_ been crying. Something had happened…

So then…then…

The understanding unfolds gradually and yet all at once. He freezes – stops breathing, opens a single eye and then another. He’s on his side, staring in full-blown panic at the back of Yamaguchi’s head a couple feet away. He chances the smallest of forward movements, attempting to draw his limbs out from his sleeping bag to maybe claw his way to freedom, but the strong arm curled around him keeps his own arms pinned firmly against his chest. He squirms again, only to be pulled flush against a warm body with a gentle, sleepy tug. Hinata tips his head away and gasps quietly into the pillow when Kageyama tightens his hold briefly before breathing out a little sigh against the back of his neck.

He’s one-thousand percent sure he’s going to die.

_This isn’t happening._

Alright, so maybe waking up in the arms of the guy he loves shouldn’t be such a terrible thing, but he can still feel the dried tears on his cheeks and _maybe_ if that guy hadn’t violently separated Hinata from his body for the second time in a month mere hours ago, it would be more enjoyable rather than a refined method of the cruelest torture he can imagine.

Knowing how appalled Kageyama would be if he were to wake up cuddled against him makes Hinata’s stomach churn with misery and _fear_.

He has to get out of this somehow.

The only sounds Hinata can hear are his insane heartbeat and Kageyama’s soft breathing from behind him; the other boy is definitely still asleep (well _obviously_ he is, think they would still be like this if he weren’t still asleep!) so maybe he can…

…if he could just…

…move…

…a little…

…like this…

…carefully…

… _shit…_

…quietly…

…careful…

…careful…

…like…

…almost…

_Ugh._

Well, his arms are free and he’s on his back, but that doesn’t really help anything because now Hinata can actually _see_ how close they are, and Kageyama’s arm is still slung over his chest and he doesn’t think he’s taken a breath in like ten minutes so his mind is starting to swim from the lack of oxygen.

He chokes in a way-too-loud, rattling breath that turns out to be too shallow to be of any use and then winces, slapping his hands over his face and awaiting the inevitable shit storm – he isn’t sure if he would be able to live through being thrown again. This isn’t even his fault!

But Kageyama doesn’t wake up. No; he just sort of sighs and tucks his chin against Hinata’s shoulder.

_Oh GOD this isn’t happening._

Sweating heavily, his eyes dart around the tent, wide and desperate for some way out. His vision is blurred, still a little hazy and he feels oddly light for being in such a situation. Almost as if…

_Wait…_

Something isn’t right here.

 _In what crazy alternate universe would this ever,_ ever _happen?_

This _can’t_ be happening because it _isn’t_ actually happening. He’s heard of lucid dreaming before, but he’s never actually experienced it. So what if…

Hinata almost laughs at himself. _Of course_ this isn’t really happening! Obviously this is just some figment of his imagination, born from the depths of his deepest, unconscious desires. It makes sense – he went to sleep miserable and this is his brain’s (rather masochistic) way of compensating for it.

He wrinkles his nose; damn, his unconscious desires sure are boring. His _conscious_ desires, however…maybe that’s where the whole ‘lucid’ thing is supposed to come in. Situations like these are probably why that concept was invented in the first place. Or something.

Hinata swallows thickly and drops a hand over his mouth.  So…so that means Kageyama is right there. Legs curled up against Hinata’s body with an arm thrown over him. _Only not really_. And ‘ _not really’_ means Hinata can do literally anything he pleases with him (to him) without any consequences.

Right?

_Interesting…_

Hinata exhales slowly through his nose and risks a slight turn of his head; Kageyama’s face is _right there_ , peaceful and relaxed from sleep, dark lashes resting prettily against the tops of his annoyingly perfect cheekbones.

Sleeping Kageyama has always made Hinata’s heart feel especially melty. He’s spent oh-so many hours thinking about how it might feel waking up next to the setter after a night of various activities he has no actual frame of reference for; that little moment hung between sleep and recollection where the previous night ghosts over him in fractured bits of hazy memory. Echoes of whispered confessions and timid caresses chasing him through the senselessness of sleep, images of fair skin and softer lips coupled with tingling sensations of affection stirring him awake.

Hinata would open his eyes tentatively, fearful in the briefest of moments that he’ll be met with a vision of regret – or, even worse, of nothing – but also reveling in the luxury of knowing just how silly that fear is.

Because when he opens his eyes Kageyama would be looking at him, sleepy, maybe cautious.

But smiling in that way that only he can.

Oh god, _if only._

But Hinata really has no clue what he actually wants to do right now; what he _can_ do right now. He doesn’t want to blow this shot – this gift where he miraculously has control over himself in a Kageyama dream, where he can literally do anything he wants in the time between now and when he wakes up (which may be fast approaching so he better hurry the hell up), in all likelihood still cold and sad on the floor of the tent. His heart twinges at the memory of last night and he shakes his head to clear it.

But aside from a little head shake he can’t seem to will his body to move. All he wants to do is in this moment is lie with him, enjoying his warmth and—

_Oh give me a break._

Slowly, carefully, quietly as can be, he shimmies and wiggles a little more until he is lying on his side, facing his sleeping teammate – sleeping bag pushed down to his hips and shirt rucked up over his navel from all the squirming, the other’s arm having shifted (fortunately? Unfortunately?) as well.

Wide brown eyes flicker down to where the soft bare skin of Kageyama’s forearm rests against the base of his ribs, his wrist nestled in the slight dip of his waist and hand hanging limply on the other side. With every rapidly increasing breath the pads of Kageyama’s fingers brush lightly against the sensitive skin on his lower back, just delicately enough to tickle…and to really, _really_ turn him on.

Hinata shudders, deliciously and still a little fearfully. ‘ _More’_ he wants to whisper, but doesn’t.

He squeezes his eyes shut and moves a trembling right hand to his waist, lightly tracing his own splayed fingers over the back of Kageyama’s wrist until they catch in the spaces between long digits. Sucking in a small breath between parted lips, Hinata pushes down, pressing the other’s warm palm against his bare skin.

It takes all of Hinata’s willpower not to audibly moan at the way fingers flex momentarily into his flesh, although he wonders why he doesn’t make as much noise as he wants because it isn’t like this is actually happening.

Though there is something undeniably thrilling about that little itch of anxiety at being caught – even by his own imagination – so he might as well run with it if it feels _this good,_ so he presses his hips backwards into Kageyama’s hand, partially to feel more of that large palm against his back and partially so he can draw his knees up to rest them against the other’s thighs.

At a soft hum of sleep, Hinata’s eyes open and he slides his palm back up to Kageyama’s wrist, then to his arm, then he withdraws completely to instead pillow the side of his face on his hands; as amazing as it feels to have Kageyama’s hands pressed against him, he’s suddenly transfixed by the small part that appears between Kageyama’s lips.

He licks his own.

Kageyama is _beautiful_. He knows this. He’s always known this. Up close, _this_ close, however, he is gorgeous on a level Hinata can’t even begin to interpret. He reminds himself again that this isn’t real, and that no human being looks this devastatingly perfect in real life.

But what’s this?

Hinata’s dreamy gaze focuses in on a mark beneath his lower lip. He blinks, drawing a still-trembling hand out from beneath his cheek.

 A red mark, tiny as can be but still very much there. Blood? Was he bleeding? What did—

_DON’T TOUCH IT_

Hinata jerks his hand back. Yeah, he probably shouldn’t be touching fresh dream wounds with his dirty dream fingers; he doesn’t know much about dream infections (now he’s being stupid) but no matter what realm of reality he’s in he doesn’t want to hurt Kageyama.

Not like _that_ anyway.

He frowns at the mark. Marks? Teeth marks? Did Kageyama bite himself?

_Idiot._

Well no, Kageyama didn’t do anything to himself because this is all a dream. Maybe in a previous dream _he_ bit him. Or punched him. Whatever it doesn’t matter.

But despite this being all in his imagination, he can’t help holding his breath. Being this close to the person he secretly loves is nerve-wracking. Every movement, every exhale and quivering inhale feels like a chance, a risk.

But he takes that chance and raises his hand to Kageyama’s face again, ignoring the mysterious mark and ghosting his small fingers over the side of a smooth cheek.

And in the far reaches of his mind he’s wondering why he’s choosing to do this rather than any one of the hundreds of the other things he could do…that he wants to do. God – that he _desperately_ wants to do.

But right now…this is enough. This is everything.

Because he’s in love.

And wow – _wow_ – Hinata has never noticed this before, but here in the glow of the morning he can see it now. It’s something that Hinata wonders if even Kageyama is aware of. He doesn’t seem to be the type of person to scrutinize his reflection, and never noticing it before himself – despite the endless hours spent staring at his face – Hinata is sure that no one else knows about it, either.

But here he can see that Kageyama has the faintest, most stunning crop of secret sun-freckles that Hinata has ever seen.

For a moment he is awe-struck, running both his eyes and his fingertips over the delicate marks beneath the long, dark lashes. And seeing them, touching them, even if it’s all just in his head, makes Hinata feel special – like these freckles are meant just for him.

The buzz of pride sings discretely under his skin – these are _his_ freckles. Even if just in this moment, even if it isn’t real. Some part of Kageyama exists only for him to appreciate; to cherish.

As if Kageyama could get any more beautiful.

He spends a few more seconds gently touching the sun-kissed skin, absently wondering why, of all things, he would conjure up such a bizarrely specific detail. It isn’t like he’s ever had a thing for freckles, and it’s not like he spent so much time around Yamaguchi lately that _his_ features would stand out in his mind.

If that’s how dreams work, anyway.

Besides, these aren’t anything like Yamaguchi’s distinct smattering…so…

His fingers still.

_Wait…_

_Why…_

_Why would I dream this._

_…wait a second._

And just as brown eyes begin to widen in utter terror, Kageyama’s eyelids flutter open.

Hinata yanks his hand back as if touching fire and Kageyama’s sleepy eyes focus on him, blinking a few times to clear the sleep from his vision. Or maybe it’s to give himself a second to figure out why Hinata is inches from his face.

Hinata takes it as the latter.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?”

The startled look on Kageyama’s freshly-woken face makes Hinata realize that those screeching words just came out of _his own_ mouth and he tries his damnedest to kick himself away from the other boy, but his legs snare in his blankets, trapped and tangled as he only manages to flail wildly rather than gain any actual distance from Kageyama – who is now looking at him with his own brand of wide-eyed panic, because who the hell wouldn’t, waking up to that?

But apparently Kageyama’s first instinct is to tighten his hold around Hinata’s waist in some weird attempt to abate the thrashing, but he almost immediately lets go, shooting into a sitting position and raising his hands in a sign of confused surrender before clapping them over his ears, as if Hinata’s shrieking just now registered in his brain.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Kageyama yells back, still bewildered from sleep and eyes rimmed with red.

“What’s going on?” Yamaguchi asks, sitting up and rubbing his tired face. “What’s wrong?”

“What the fuck.” Tsukishima grumbles and shoves his glasses onto his face, though he perks up quite a bit when he realizes the source of the commotion.

“He’s trying to grope me in my sleep!” A frantic Hinata accuses, finally extracting his legs from his sleeping bag with one final kick and trying to jump to his feet; but now Kageyama’s sweatshirt is wrapped around his ankles so he falls back down over Kageyama’s legs, rolling and floundering around before he manages to free himself again. “And what the hell is this!?” Hinata grabs at the garment and shakes it insanely in his teammate’s face.

Kageyama takes one look at the sweatshirt and looks back at Hinata, kneeling between his legs and chest heaving. He drops his hands slowly from his head – the redhead is trying for angry but he’s sure his utter mortification is radiating off his skin. But the look of pure terror in Kageyama’s eyes is sort of confusing to him. Why should _he_ look so afraid?

“What?” Kageyama almost chokes, pale and wide-eyed.

Hinata glances around at the other two boys, now fully awake and staring at him, as he swallows his heart back down to where it belongs.

“T-this is yours, right?” Hinata continues, trying to look at least vaguely threatening, though the image of a puffed up kitten staring down a panther flashes obnoxiously through his head.

“Not that, the other thing.” Kageyama whispers. “What…what did you just say?”

“That you…you were…um…”

Wow – he sure wishes that he hadn’t said that, and it would be either a shame or reprieve if the irony was lost to him, but he’s not that lucky; now he feels guilty.

Guilty and miserable that Kageyama is so troubled by the accusation that he looks like he’s going to throw up.

He drops his eyes and winds his sweaty hands into Kageyama’s hoodie and accepts the blush that’s threatening to boil his face. He tries for a stabilizing breath but it’s pulled in as more of a wheeze than anything else. Puffing his cheeks, he lets the air out with an audible tremble.

“I guess…I was just dreaming? Badly? Bad…a bad dream?” He squeaks.

“You screamed. In my face.” Kageyama answers in monotone. “Because you had a bad dream.”

“Y-yeah…”

“I think I’m getting sick of that excuse.” Kageyama finishes quietly.

Hinata glances over at Yamaguchi, who yawns, clearly not in any way even remotely interested in what’s going on right now – business as usual to him.

Tsukishima, on the other hand, has his elbow posted on his knee and is resting his chin on his fist like he’s taking in some kind of performance, a smug smirk on his face like the pretentious shit that he is. And now is really not the time for Hinata to be remembering Kageyama’s super-special word for him because the memory makes him want to laugh out loud and wilt from misery at the same time.

The bastard opens his mouth to speak and Hinata is poised to fire back a retort to whatever snarky garbage decides to fall out of it, but the only thing the tall boy ends up saying is,

“I have to pee.”

And with that he leaves the tent with Yamaguchi trailing behind.

Alone again, Hinata and Kageyama watch the door of the tent for a few seconds before Hinata jumps up with a ‘me too!’, but before he can take a step he feels a fist wind into the back of his t-shirt and he’s yanked down onto his back.

“What the fuck was that really about?” Kageyama hisses angrily, clambering over him and caging Hinata between his arms against the floor.

“Oh gosh, I don’t know! Hinata answers with genuine anger, digging in his heels in to slide out from under the other, already knowing that later he’s going to fantasize about being there again. “I just happened to wake up with your arm around me!”

For a second it looks like Kageyama is going to crawl forward after him, but then his mouth falls open, then closes, then opens again but no words come out as he rocks back onto his heels with a really stupid look on his face.

“What?” Hinata snaps, propped up on his elbows.

The smallest yet most obvious smirk in the world miraculously works its way onto Kageyama’s beautiful lips, and it takes Hinata physical effort to not allow his gaze to continually flicker down to his mouth.

“That’s it?” Kageyama asks.

And on any other person the expression that Hinata is met with would suggest something maybe hinging on relief, but on Kageyama it’s just confusing.

Hinata scoffs. “What do you mean ‘that’s it’!?”

Kageyama just relaxes into himself, dropping his face into his hands and shaking his head.

Hinata is watching him warily, awaiting a response.

He doesn’t get one.

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’!” He repeats with a shrillness that is only mildly embarrassing, rising a little shakily to his feet.

Kageyama snorts out a short laugh and drops his hands. “You know you’re the only one who can stand up in here?”

“Kageyama!”

Kageyama huffs and rolls his eyes, shaking his head again. His gaze drops to Hinata’s juice bottle from last night, abandoned on its side near the wall of the tent.

He reaches out a long arm and scoops it up, opening it to take a long, slow sip, eyeing Hinata while he swallows and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. He recaps the bottle and tosses it, a little too hard, at the other’s chest.

Hinata catches it with a quiet grunt.

“It means you’re an idiot.” Kageyama bites finally, crawling his way to the exit.

Hinata bristles but has no retort. He just watches Kageyama leave.

But Kageyama pauses with his hand against the flap, eyes dropping to the floor while he takes a deep breath and,

“I’m sorry. For last night.” He says to the ground, voice tinted with unmistakable annoyance. “I didn’t mean to…you know.” He stares blankly ahead for several seconds, clenching and unclenching his jaw before sighing and ducking out into the morning sun.

Hinata blinks after him. ‘ _No, I don’t know!_ ’ He wants to scream, but doesn’t.

Because all he can do is stare dumbly at the bottle in his hands.

 

* * *

 

Monday morning is the worst.

Not only had he barely slept Saturday night during the relay, but all Hinata was able to do Sunday night was cringe at his behavior earlier that morning – obviously taking a few short breaks to play out various scenarios that _could have never happened_ and thinking about how Kageyama shoved him down and had the _audacity_ to hover over him like a big sexy idiot – but still it was mostly an endless night full of embarrassment and heartache left by the memory of Kageyama’s fingers brushing against his spine.

And those _fucking freckles._

So sleep was even less of an acquaintance than usual during the past couple days. And he is utterly exhausted.

And with two nights of virtually no sleep, Kageyama is easily able to beat him during their race to the gym. Though even worse than Kageyama’s win is the fact that Hinata cannot even muster enough energy to give a shit and just accepts his defeat, flopped on his back in the dirt in front of the gymnasium doors.

“I believe that’s—my—fifth win.” Kageyama says, catching his breath but still managing to sound like a smug asshole. “So what’s that, then? You owe me—a soda? Ice cream? I—forget.”

“I don’t care.” Hinata groans, throwing an arm dramatically over his eyes. “Whatever you want. Just let me die.”

“Whatever I want, huh?” Kageyama chides a little breathlessly, leaning against the door. “You sure about that? Seems like that could be dangerous.”

Hinata just grunts.

“What’s your deal?”

“What about ‘let me die’ do you not understand.” Hinata mutters. He lifts his head, eyeing the hand offered to help pull him up before accepting it graciously. He doesn’t even have the energy to get all nervous about it. “I just didn’t sleep well.” He amends while brushing himself off.

“For how long? A year?”

 _‘I wonder whose fault that is?’_ He wants to say. Instead he scowls, grumbling, “Well, between last night and Saturday night—“

“Hey Kageyama.” Yuu greets, walking up with a somewhat shy smile. Hinata _almost_ misses the way Kageyama bristles at his mention of Saturday, but he doesn’t.

“H-hey Hinata.” The first year says a little softer.

Hinata smiles as warmly as possible but he’s pretty sure his face isn’t working right.

“Wow are you okay?” Yuu asks. “You look awful.”

Suspicion confirmed.

“Thanks, Yuu.” Hinata mumbles, leaning against the door with Kageyama and rubbing his eyes.

“N-not that you look bad! S-sorry!” The blushing boy blurts. “You just look—like—I mean—sick? Maybe? A-are you sick? That’s all I meant!”

Hinata cocks a brow at Yuu’s stammered apology, his face red and eyes way too wide for this early in the morning.

“No you’re right, Yuu. He looks like shit. Hinata, you look like shit.”

“What are you doing here so early?” Hinata asks, eyes sliding briefly to Kageyama. He catches the tail-end of a rather severe scowl in Yuu’s direction but it disappears as soon as the younger boy turns to the setter with a chirp of nervous laughter.

“Kageyama said I could watch you guys practice? A little? I-if that’s alright with you, of course.” Yuu says, underscoring his words with some fidgeting.

“Of course it is!” Hinata sings, wincing internally at the lilt in his voice and digging the key out of his pocket. “Interested in tossing? Spiking?”

“Falling on your face?” Kageyama.

“Um…yeah.” Yuu answers, following the other boys into the dark gym. “Something like that.”

Hinata doesn’t even bother to ask which one it is; he’s just too tired to care.

 

* * *

 

The shadow once known as Hinata Shouyou drifts through his classes in a daze. Twice that morning he had awoken rudely to the shrill bleating of a teacher, threatening detention if he were to dare fall asleep again. Whatever happened to compassion? He’s in pain!

By lunch he can barely keep his head up.

In fact, he can’t. He awakes with a start, slumped against Kageyama and legs splayed out in front of him as they sit against the wall of the courtyard. He rights himself, groggy and knuckling the sleep from his eyes. Maybe wiping a tiny bit of drool from his lower lip.

“I was wondering how long you’d last.” Kageyama says from beside him, his head tipped back and his own eyes closed. “You’re not going to scream at me again, are you?”

“No.” Hinata mutters, scooting a safe couple inches away. He sighs. “Drop it. I just overreacted, alright?”

“No shit.”

Hinata glares silently until Kageyama cracks an eye.

“You said it, not me.”

Hinata makes a frustrated grumbling noise and drops his bloodshot gaze to the ground in front of him, ashamed. A small hand raises to his chest in some weak effort to try to lessen the sharp spasm of guilt.

“I guess I know what that can be like.” The setter says, turning his face away and grabbing his milk box to loudly slurp out whatever is left. “The overreacting, I mean.”

“No shit.” Hinata echoes with a yawn, folding an arm across his chest and sticking a fist under his chin.

When he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder he realizes that he nodded off again.

“Want me to tell them you’re sick?” Kageyama asks when Hinata shakes himself awake. “I think you’re allowed to miss one practice in your life.”

Hinata seriously considers this proposal but he shakes his head. “You’ll just make fun of me.”

“Dumbass. I’ll make fun of you anyway.”

Hinata hums softly in agreement and says, “I’ve missed practice before. Remember?” He holds up his right hand, displaying his once-broken fingers.

Kageyama eyes the hand with vague irritation. “Yeah, you missed _one day_. Then next practice you came an hour late wearing an oven mitt.”

“It was not an oven mitt!”

Kageyama blinks at him.

“What else was I supposed to do!?”

“Literally anything else.”

“And it was a fireplace glove.” Hinata corrects.

“Right. And then you cried on the bench for ten minutes and – WHERE the hell did you get that thing anyway!? Does your house even have a fireplace!?”

Hinata folds his arms and pouts. “It would have worked.”

“No! It—“ Kageyama sighs pinches the bridge of his nose. “Seriously. I will never forgive you if you get hurt right before prelims because you’re being a proud idiot. Just go get some sleep. You look gross.”

Hinata snorts. “What makes you think I’ll be able to sleep anyway?”

“You just fell asleep on me.”

 _‘Come home with me and let’s see if it happens again.’_ He almost says. Instead he keeps his eyes pointed straight ahead, watching the tip of his sneaker as he knocks his foot back and forth. But then he stills, narrowing his eyes. He asks quietly,

“You didn’t want to play against me, did you?”

“No.”

Hinata is taken aback at the immediacy of the answer. His brows twitch up in surprise and he looks up at his friend; he was fully expecting some hesitation or flat-out denial or maybe just _anything_ other than complete honesty. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.” Kageyama’s face is blank, he’s staring hard and an orangish leaf on the grass in front of them, blinking when the breeze picks it up and away.

“Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Lots of things are weird.”

Hinata frowns a little, trying to follow Kageyama’s gaze but he’s not actually looking at anything so it’s kind of impossible.

“ _You’re_ weird.” Kageyama adds quietly. When Hinata looks back up at him he’s got one of those wicked grins that makes his skin all tingly. He swallows awkwardly and looks away.

“I’m…not.”

“Nice comeback.”

“Nice—“ Hinata slouches against the wall and puts his face in his hands. He doesn’t know why his brain suddenly went there but it’s out of his mouth before he has even the slightest chance to reconsider and he’s already reacting preemptively to the embarrassment of mentioning it so: “Freckles.”

“What?”

Hinata falls over in utter defeat, not caring in the least that his cheek is pressed against the probably dirty ground. “Freckles.” He mumbles again, words muffled and lips tickled by the grass. “You have freckles. _Those_ are weird. And stupid.”

“I…don’t have—“

“You do.”

The silence that follows makes Hinata wonder if maybe he fell asleep again, but he blinks and huffs out a breath to confirm that he is, indeed, still awake.

“Hey…” Kageyama whispers finally, leaning over and planting a hand near his face. Hinata’s eyes focus lazily on the sides of his fingers before the other hand presses on his shoulder, tipping him onto his back. “Really. Are you alright?”

“There.” Hinata jabs a finger clumsily at Kageyama’s concerned face as he bends over him. “I see them. Right there.”

“Hinata, I—“

“Theeerrree~” He swipes his fingertip over the bridge of Kageyama’s nose and across a cheek, punctuating the gesture with an uncoordinated poke that lands somewhere above Kageyama’s left eye.

“Stop it.” Kageyama grunts, grabbing Hinata’s hand and pulling it from his face. Hinata can’t help the giggle that leaks past his lips as he tugs his arm away, his small hand dropping to the ground with a quiet _thump_.

“I think you really might sick…” Kageyama mumbles, brushing messy hair off Hinata’s forehead to press the back of a hand to it. “Your face is all red…and you’re super warm.”

“I’m not sick.” Hinata insists, shaking his head away from Kageyama’s touch. How _dare_ he give a shit all of a sudden. “Move.” He mumbles, pushing against Kageyama’s chest as he sits up.

Kageyama drops back against the wall with his mouth in a tight line before folding his arms against his chest. “You should go home.”

“You should shut up and mind your own business!” Hinata glowers.

“You _are_ my business, you little shit! You can’t play volleyball when you’re barely conscious and you’re just going to make practice harder for everyone else!”

“Oh right, it’s not really me you care about, it’s that I might make practice a little bit difficult for a few minutes!” He can feel his temper flaring. He thinks about running off before he says anything stupid but he’s not sure if his legs would work like that right now, and he can’t figure out why he’s getting so mad – obviously that wasn’t what Kageyama was trying to say.

“Of course I care about you! What the fuck is your problem? You think I want you to get hurt!? We _need_ you—“

“’ _We’_ , huh? ‘ _WE_ need you’!? And I suppose lumping yourself in with the rest of the team frees you from actually having to give a shit about me yourself! Convenient!”

Kageyama is looking at him with wide confused eyes, mouth open as he struggles to figure out just what the hell Hinata is all fired up about. Finally, he throws his hands up in exasperation. “What the fuck are you even talking about!?”

“I don’t KNOW!” Hinata stomps his feet against the ground. “I’m just so tired…” He finishes with a whimper, cradling his face in his hands. “I know I shouldn’t practice…but I don’t like the thought of—“

“I don’t want to practice without you, either!” Kageyama barks.

At that Hinata lifts his head.

“Dumbass.”

Kageyama’s face is red; the eye contact he’s maintaining seems forced.

The heaviest of all sighs works its way through Hinata’s entire tiny, sleep-deprived body before he drops his hands. “Alright. I’ll go home.” He says, his body positively gooey at the prospect of hopping into bed a couple hours sooner than usual. “Don’t replace me while I’m gone.”

Hinata expects some snarky response or at least a hand in his hair or something, but he receives neither, and Kageyama is doing that stupid staring straight ahead thing again.

Hinata slouches back against the wall as they sit in silence awaiting the end of their lunch period. He’s not thinking about how they would be in the middle of an all-out brawl right now if it were a few months ago. He’s not thinking about how Kageyama just yelled about caring about him.

No. Right now they’re just sitting – Hinata wishing for a swift death, Kageyama wishing for…who knows.

 

 

More milk or something, probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say again, for anyone who may have missed it, that I have been completely overwhelmed with the amount of loveliness sent my way in response to this fic. REALLY - I cannot get over how wonderful you all have been. Thank you SO CRAZY MUCH for reading this thing. Ack, it's just too much :')! You guys make me so happy!
> 
> Also, I had to split this chapter into two parts or else it would have been obnoxiously long. I will also be upgrading the rating to E once I post the next part...just a heads up. Even though I don't see much of a difference between M and E ratings...let me just say that a certain something gets a little graphic during Kageyama's POV ;)
> 
> <33333


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama gets creepy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that I was upping the rating to E for this chapter, but I am holding off just a little longer. That is NOT to say that I changed the planned content, however.
> 
>  
> 
> @JaneSky, this chapter is for you for your completely 100% true birthday that is today and not fake :D
> 
> Enjoy! :)

 

Kageyama can’t understand why he’s still trying to do homework. He’s been staring at the same page in his history book since after dinner, and the hour hand is climbing steadily towards twelve.

He _cannot_ get the feeling of Hinata’s body against his out of his head. AND IT’S BEEN TWO DAYS.

Two days.

Dammit – he hadn’t meant for it to be anything more than a way to help Hinata stop shivering and it was only supposed to be for a few minutes. He swears; to everything that is good and holy or whatever the fuck in the world he SWEARS that it wasn’t supposed to be anything more than that.

And it _wasn’t_.

It wasn’t, and Kageyama deserves a fucking medal.

He hadn’t expected Hinata to be so…so…no, ‘seductive’ isn’t the right word; you can’t be seductive when you’re asleep.

Whatever word existed to appropriately describe Hinata while he innocently slept, Kageyama had not expected it.

Okay, maybe he expected it just a little – at least _some_ unreasonable wiggling. This was Hinata; Kageyama has been smacked in the face enough times to know that Hinata isn’t exactly the most stationary sleeper. Kageyama knew this and _still_ thought the situation would have been easily tolerable.

But it somehow slipped his mind that in that type of position certain body parts of party number one… _align_ with certain body parts of party number two – especially when a certain little spoon really, _really_ likes to cuddle, apparently.

Back up a second.

He’s always thought of Hinata as being just a little bit cute. But so what? Lots of things are cute.

But Hinata isn’t cute, he’s _cute._ He’s the ‘get over here and let me touch you right now or maybe punch you to death’ kind of cute. The kind of cute that’s innately confusing.

The kind of cute that made him chase off his own middle school teammates to rescue Hinata from their teasing forever ago. Christ – has it really been that long since they first met?

So when Kageyama accepted that Hinata was _that_ kind of cute, it was _concerning_. He never really expected to be staring down the business end of the ‘ _romantic feelings for his male teammate_ ’ gun, and now he can’t stop shooting himself in the face with it.

But when he first messed up a toss because he was staring at the way Hinata’s shirt was fluttering up in the back, it was _alarming._ Even if he never let it happen again (no, he just got really good at tossing and peeking. He’s the Genius Setter, after all).

So when Hinata segued into _sexy_ , eh…well actually, he pretty much accepted his fate by that point.

And alright, you can’t be sexy ALL the time, especially when you’re clumsily throwing yourself around in lieu of functioning like a normal human being, but there have been plenty of times when he’s caught Hinata looking at him, and one time in particular stands out. He can’t remember the time or the place – probably the gym or the club room, but he remembers the _look_.

Because that day he stopped seeing the telling ‘Deer in the Headlights’ when Kageyama pinned him with a ‘caught you’ glare of his own, and instead saw actual _desire_ in those wide, honey-brown eyes; the dusting of a bashful blush instead became the flush of want – not that Kageyama could put words to this change in perception or the meaning behind what he was seeing, but the way Hinata would lick his fresh lips before he averted his eyes was no longer nervous, but _hungry._

_God, the idiot doesn’t even know what he looks like, does he?_

And that day, when Hinata looked at him the same way he always did, a switch flicked inside the setter and it was Game Over for him. Because that hungry stare aimed his way made him feel _hot._ Feverish. Smothered by a want he never knew possible.

And he’s never been able to turn it off.

But how, HOW that little brat with his rat’s nest of hair and almost zero game sense became sexy while also annoying him with his dazzling smiles and borderline-manic enthusiasm, and that adorable way his nose scrunches when he’s all mad about something stupid and how he literally _shivers_ when he’s excited like he has no control over his body like an _idiot_ , he has no clue. Ugh. Hinata is _adorable._

 _Gross_.

But he is also sexy. Devastatingly so.

And another thing; as tiny as Hinata is, you don’t go through life jumping for spikes half of your waking hours without consequences. And those _consequences_ are, in sum, what are presently making Kageyama want to tear his hair out…along with engaging in a few other choice activities.

All of that leaping and sprinting has taken a very _pleasing_ toll on Hinata’s leg muscles. Not to mention his ass.

No. No, please let Kageyama mention his ass for a couple seconds.

_…it’s nice._

And because Kageyama makes poor life choices, that ass had been intermittently grinding against his crotch for god knows how long in the wee-hours of Sunday morning inside a tent with two of their other teammates because Hinata would not. Stop. MOVING.

You would think a layer or two of sleeping bags would dampen the feeling. Well it probably did, so Kageyama didn’t want to think about the way it would have felt had they both not been covered with bedding (he did. He had. He is.), because with every little shuffle of hips the setter thought his self-control would snap.

But the moment he slipped an arm over the small, shaking body he knew he was doomed. He thought he had been doomed before but OH how wrong he was. Because Hinata’s first course of action was to…oh, you know, fucking _gyrate_ against him or some shit.

Okay, _obviously_ all Hinata was doing was unconsciously getting comfortable, it just so happened to be in a way that made Kageyama think he was going to come in his pants.

And did he really have to make all those little noises? The small breathy moaning ones that either meant he was sleeping peacefully or doing his best to actually _make_ Kageyama come in his pants? Something he may or may not have revisited under that assumption once or twice (three times) since that night.

So yeah. He deserves a fucking medal. No trophy wall is complete without the _‘Outstanding Achievement in Not Dry Humping the Fuck Out of Your Sleeping Teammate’_ Award.

_Shit._

But he almost lost it completely when Hinata rocked back against his – let's be honest – _very_ hard cock and (honestly) _whimpered_ his goddamn name. He fought the urge to grind back into that perfect ass with sheer power of will and pulling his lip between his teeth so hard he almost bit a hole in it.

So when the dumb shit accused Kageyama of molesting him in his sleep, he was a centimeter away from yelling about how he didn’t mean to and it wasn’t his fault anyway because apparently Hinata is a fucking succubus.

 _Yes_ \- he understands all the reasons that doesn't make sense. It just seemed fitting, okay!?

Though for some reason, the thought of letting go, rolling away and heading to the school restroom to alleviate his problem never crossed his lust-addled mind. Because as lust-filled as his mind was, his _heart_ was full of something else entirely.

Because even with the bulky bedding between them, Kageyama could not ignore how _amazing_ Hinata’s small body felt nestled in the curve of his own – erection pressing into him or not, Hinata felt _so good_ against him, so small – almost delicate, but Kageyama knows he is anything but. The way he could tuck his knees against the back of the other’s and blanket the whole of his back to wind an arm around his chest, how he could curl around Hinata and drop his face to nuzzle into his hair. Did he mention how _small_ he was? Because heaven help him, he loved it— _loved._ It.

They fit together perfectly.

He just couldn’t let go.

And the smell of his hair, the damp, musky smell of sweat mingled with the scent of grass and rain and whatever fruity children’s shampoo he probably uses was just _so him_ that it gave him goosebumps.

It wasn’t exactly helping his erection either. Or it _was_? Helping…it?—

_Goddammit._

Kageyama blinks, peeling his bleary eyes from the blurry, useless page in front of him and slamming the book in frustration. Blue eyes slide to his dresser, the shirt Hinata had accidentally worn is folded and resting on top, somehow not having made it to his hamper yet.

Somehow.

He leans back in his chair – leans _really_ back, letting his head loll backwards until it makes him dizzy. But before he falls and wakes up the whole damn house he rises to his feet and instead wearily flops face-down onto his bed.

He closes his eyes, wondering if maybe he can get a few hours of sleep in the annoying glow of his desk lamp because now that he’s on his bed he really doesn’t feel like moving.

‘Cause yeah, he’s a hypocrite – he hasn’t exactly slept since Saturday, either. How could he? He can’t stop imagining that Hinata knew what he had been doing to him, that he had been knowingly teasing Kageyama while he arched his back and sighed, sliding his supple ass over the setter’s growing hard-on _intentionally._

That maybe while Kageyama was killing himself to keep still, Hinata had been smirking into his pillow like an evil little shit, wickedly testing Kageyama’s self-discipline with every shake of his sexy little hips.

And that maybe if Kageyama had pressed back, rolled his own hips against Hinata’s backside and breathed out the moan he had been biting back then _maybe_ Hinata would have taken pity on him.

 _‘Kageyama?’_ He might have whispered, soft and discrete with a hint of surprised mischief but with plenty of nervous doubt.

 _‘Hinata.’_ Kageyama would have answered – would have _breathed,_ no, _whined_ into Hinata’s soft, fragrant hair.

He rolls onto his back.

And Hinata would have taken Kageyama’s hand, the one trembling so badly he tries to keep it pressed against Hinata’s small chest in an effort to hide his fear; maybe Hinata would tease him, but his own tiny hand would be just as tremulous as he timidly guided it down to his cock, demonstrating to Kageyama the effect he’s had on him, too. Maybe he would have pulled Kageyama’s hand to that loud, pouty mouth (he’s seen the way Hinata looks at his hands), taking a moment to kiss his fingers or his palm, or maybe he would have raised an arm, reaching behind himself to slide a hand into Kageyama’s hair as he arched into him again, tugging his head down with a silent plea and turning his face up towards him as Kageyama rocked forward, and Kageyama wouldn’t kiss him right away but instead watch his half-lidded eyes as they watch his own, fearful but alight with carnal need and sweet affection, with questions neither one needs to answer.

Because _yes – yes, Hinata. Fuck._    

But he _wouldn’t_ kiss him. Not yet. Not yet because he wants to hear his voice; that sweet, stupid, airy voice telling him – _begging_ Kageyama to touch him, to not stop what he’s doing, to stay quiet and push against him like that again because for some reason it feels _really good_ , to help him get his clothes off—

Kageyama’s palm stills against his clothed erection. He didn’t even realize that he had started touching himself, but why stop now, so he slides a hand into his sweatpants, gripping himself with a sigh and using the free hand to tug the loose waistband just low enough to free himself. Tilting his hips up into his coiled fist, he begins to stroke slowly.

Slow. Kageyama likes slow – at least with this. Unfortunately ‘slow’ likely isn’t in Hinata’s vocabulary. Not that he ever expects anything to happen between them, but it sometimes makes fantasizing difficult (it doesn’t).

So while he’s imagining that high, breathy voice, gravelly around Kageyama’s name as Hinata nuzzles his blushed face into Kageyama’s throat, he runs his thumb slowly over his moist tip.

Biting his lip, he grips his shaft and rolls over onto his side, pressing his hardness slowly through his fingers. It’s _good_ like this – _really_ good.

So good he feels himself on the brink already while imagining Hinata’s lips against his hot skin, the needy backwards cant of his hips.

Yes – needy. Hinata would most definitely be needy, and Hinata would tell him so with husky little whispers against Kageyama’s ear.

And with a particularly tight grip, Kageyama thrusts into his hand, the movement fluid and quick with precum as he begins to pump himself with intent.

 _‘Please.’_ He hears. _‘Please, Kageyama. I need you.’_

 _‘Hinata…’_ He’d reply. _‘I…I need you too. I—‘_

_…_

_…_

_Alright. What the_ FUCK _is that noise?_

Kageyama begrudgingly halts his indulgence, rolling over to glare menacingly at his cock-block of a cellphone vibrating away on his nightstand. He slaps a little too aggressively at the device, knocking his clock to the floor and swearing an oath to end whoever dares to interrupt his precious alone time, and squints at the screen, eyeing an unfamiliar number. For a second he considers not answering it because it’s fucking midnight and he’s close to coming and he would _very_ much like to do that, but of course he’s going to answer it.

Of course.

“What?” He growls.

“Kageyama?”

Of course.

“Hinata?” He slaps a hand over his mouth, recoiling into himself over the husky breathlessness of his voice. He pulls the phone away from his ear to examine the number again. Taking control of his voice and injecting a bit of agitation, he tries again with: “Where are you calling me from?”

“Huh?” Hinata says stupidly. “Oh…my house. My house phone. My cellphone is…somewhere.”

“You lost your phone?” Kageyama looks down at his leaking cock still in his hand.

“No!”

With a silent inhale Kageyama draws his hand back up his shaft. Determined to keep his voice steady he says, “D-did you need something?”

_Shit._

“Mmm…oh! The biology homework!”

Kageyama’s hand stills. “Biology homework?”

“Yeah?”

“We aren’t in the same class, dumbass!”

“I-I said the math homework! I mean, I was _looking_ at my biology textbook because I was just doing the homework so I accidentally _said_ —“

“Hinata…” Kageyama shoulders his phone to push his bangs off his forehead; his other hand tightens at the base of his dick. “I need you to tell me that you realize that we aren’t in any classes together. It’s important that you say that.”

“I know that, asshole!” Hinata yell-whispers. “I’m not stupid! We have the same teacher! He gives all his classes the same homework!”

Kageyama glares at his ceiling, then remembers Hinata can’t see him. Then chokes a little at the thought of the contrary.

“…right?” Hinata finishes softly, hesitantly.

Kageyama continues his misdeeds, dragging his palm up to the flushed head and keeping the hand in his hair, wondering if Hinata will start rambling about something if he stays quiet, but after a few seconds Hinata still hasn’t said anything so Kageyama says,

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Well I _was_ , but I have responsibilities you know!”

Kageyama snorts. “Since when?”

“Since…forever?”

There he goes with that quiet voice again. But Kageyama needs more of it but he can’t think of how to draw it out of him. He’d rather not get off to them arguing so he really needs to play it safe—

“Well?”

“Well what?” Kageyama snaps as he begins to pump himself slowly again. He lets go of his hair to instead bite on his knuckles.

“Math homework?”

“Do you know what time it is?” He asks, voice muffled by the back of his hand.

“I…don’t, actually. What time is—“

Kageyama groans. This feels _really_ good. “We don’t have a math assignment!”

“Oh…” Kageyama can practically hear Hinata fidgeting through the phone.

“S-so,” _shit_. “Do you need anything else?”

“No…I guess that was it…um…sorry for bothering you, Kageyama.” Hinata sounds positively crushed for some reason and Kageyama feels like he’s being stabbed in the chest. Neither of those things are helping the present situation. “I’ll let you g—“

“Wait!” Kageyama all-but shouts. Okay, he shouted, but he just came up with the world’s greatest idea. “Wait.” He repeats at a more acceptable volume, momentarily releasing his dick to grab at his backpack beside his bed. “I forgot…we do have an assignment.”

“Oh!” Hinata chirps back. “Good!”

Kageyama hurriedly yanks out his math book and flips to a random page. “Did you just say ‘good’ about math homework?”

“Maybe.” Hinata snickers.

Kageyama settles back against his headboard, laying the open book beside him. “Problems…five through ten on page one thirty-seven.”

“One thirty-seven? Aren’t we done with that stuff?”

“I said TWO thirty-seven, idiot!” He bites, shouldering the phone again and flipping crazily to the new page. Thank god it has actual word problems on it.

“Oh…alright.” Kageyama hears some rustling. “Let me get to my desk…”

“Your desk?” He pauses before taking his still-erect cock in his hand. “I thought you said you were already doing homework?”

The line is silent for a few seconds before he hears some more rustling and the unmistakable sound of him unzipping his messenger bag and an emphatic: “I was!”

“Where? In your bed?”

“Maybe!”

Kageyama can hear some unintelligible mumbling while Hinata flips through his textbook. He grips himself again, stifling a moan while he listens to little ‘hmm’ing noises as the other looks for the page.

During a few moments of silence, Kageyama chances a few slow pumps. He only realizes he closed his eyes when he has to slide them open at a tiny grunt of frustration from over the phone.

“Kageyama…I don’t know any of this stuff. Are you sure this is right?”

“Well…were you conscious at all during math today?” Kageyama teases, smirking before biting his lip and watching the head of his cock push in and out of his fingers.

“True—Shut up!”

“I haven’t done it—either, so…we can do it—them. Together. The problems. Together.”

“Um…over the phone?”

“No, come over here right now.” Kageyama says, smacking his head against the headboard at the startling lack of sarcasm in his husky voice. “Idiot.” He adds, mostly directed towards himself.

But Hinata just snorts. 

“I’m not going to teach it all to you, though!” Kageyama says quickly.

“I didn’t ask you to! As if you could anyway!”

“Shut up.” Kageyama breathes out slowly, tilting his hips and widening his knees. “Just read the first problem.”

“Don’t you have your book? Or can’t you read?”

“Do you want my help or not? Just…read and I’ll follow along.” Licking his lips and closing his eyes again, Kageyama is trying to quiet the guilt burbling up beneath the syrupy lust in his veins. He can’t believe he’s actually doing this.

Poor Hinata.

“…these are really long problems.”

“Quit whining!”

“I’m not whining! Ugh…fine. The first one—“

“Read slowly.” Kageyama squeezes his eyes shut and slips the fingers of his other hand under the hem of his t-shirt, sliding it halfway up his stomach as he fucks into his hand.

“The. First. One.” Hinata repeats like an asshole. But quiet and teasing, like an infuriatingly _sexy_ asshole. “Um…alright, _the International Space Agency has finally landed a robotic explorer on an extra-solar planet…_ what’s ‘extra-solar’ mean?”

“No idea. Does it really matter?” Kageyama mutters breathlessly, winding his fist into his shirt.

“Wait. Is this some trick?”

Kageyama makes some weird choking sound and freezes. “T-trick!?”

“To get me to do your math homework for you!”

“No. Jesus.” Kageyama sighs as he resumes his activities. “Idiot.”

“Better not be…anyway, _Some probes_ …pfft, ‘probes’… _Some probes are extended from the lander’s body to conduct various tests—_ I thought it was a robot? What’s a lander?”

“Ugh…Hinata…” The other boy groans, both out of annoyance and the fact that he’s established a delicious rhythm.

“Okay okay. _To demonstrate the crushing weight of gravity on this planet, the lander's camera is aimed at a probe's ground-level ejection port, and the port launches a_ _baseball_ …nope, a **_volleyball_** _directly upwards at one hundred forty-seven feet per second_ , _about the top speed of a professional pitcher_ , I mean **_spiker_** —wow, can you imagine? Spiking that fast? That would be like WAH-BAM! And then everyone would be like BWAHH—‘kay, sorry. _The force due to gravity on this planet is ninety-eight feet per seconds squared_ ……..”

Kageyama slides himself down the headboard to lie flat on his back, mussing the comforter and pressing his head back into the pillow, working himself to the sound of Hinata’s sweet voice reading fucking math problems of all things. Christ, he must _really_ like Hinata’s voice.

 “……….. _assuming no winds and that the probe can scurry out of the way in time, how long will it take for the **volleyball** to smack back into the surface?_ Okay, so do we have to figure out the size difference since I changed it to a volleyball? How big is a volleyball? Should I measure it? I have a ruler. Will a ruler work? I can try to find a tape measure if I have to…”

No, he just _really_ likes Hinata.

“…Kageyama? Are you there?”

“Y-yeah.” He whispers, swirling his thumb around his dripping head. “I…I don’t know that one. Read another.”

“Do you understand it at all? Kageyama, help me!”

“I’m trying! Read it again…slower. Quieter.”

“Quieter?”

“You’re always—t-too loud.” He tightens his grip and begins slowly thrusting upwards. “Please.”

“What? ‘Please’!?” Hinata asks, but then sighs. “Fine. Can I keep it about volleyball?”

“Mhmm…” His heart is kicking into overdrive and he’s getting so close, he’s tensing, tension building deep in his abdomen while Hinata starts reading again all hushed, but he’s not listening this time. Okay he’s listening, but not _listening_ because what Hinata is saying has absolutely nothing to do with how good he feels right now. He is literally getting off to Hinata reading a math textbook and he might be the most vile person on earth but Hinata’s voice in his ear does things to him that nothing else can.

And he’s pretending so hard that there aren’t a couple miles between them and Hinata is _right there_ , whispering to him, touching him. Fucking _wanting_ him and looking at him with those glittering eyes, all watery and dark with need, maybe he’s on top of Kageyama or maybe Kageyama is on top of him…no, Hinata is straddling him, leaning down and murmuring into his ear, _pleading_ for something, running his small hands up underneath Kageyama’s shirt and rocking his hips and gliding that gorgeous ass over his cock. _‘Kageyama…’_ He would say, voice broken and husky. _‘Oh god…K-kageyama…’_

“Kageyama?”

Shit, _shit_. _‘Say that again’_ he wants to say – wants to beg – but he _can’t_ , but he so desperately needs more of that breathy little voice right now as he nears a shuddering release and he doesn’t trust himself to actually speak a sentence so all he says in return is, “Hinata?”   

And _fuck_ that sounded way too breathless, but the taste of that name on his tongue while his heart is pounding as he strokes himself is too sweet, and if it were anyone, _anyone_ else on the other end he would be caught (it wouldn’t be), but it’s not. It’s innocent little Hinata and the next thing out of that sweet mouth of his is: “What are you doing?”

And he knows he just being paranoid, because yeah, he’d been oddly silent so why the hell wouldn’t Hinata wonder what the fuck he’s doing, but dumb, clueless Hinata probably just thinks he’s falling asleep so he tries to snap at him, “S-same thing as YOU, i-idiot.”

He can feel himself almost there, almost. The pressure is near to bursting and it feels _too good_ , and his fist is wound into the sheets as he tries to keep his hips still as his stiff flesh throbs in his hand then Hinata—he—what? Did he—is he? Did he just laugh?

He did. He is. Hinata is giggling, quietly, but unmistakably. Soft little chirps of laughter sing into his ear around some words and maybe possibly, no _definitely_ another airy call of his name, but Kageyama can’t hear anything else because that did it. He’s coming – spilling over his hand and onto his stomach as he bites urgently on the edge of his pillow, the phone falling away against his neck and he can’t suppress the whimper that Hinata can probably hear but he doesn’t care. Let him know. Let him know that he’s coming all over himself to the sound of his voice.

And as he comes down from his high he can only think: _Oh god. Oh god what the fuck did I just do. Please._ Please _don’t let him know_.

He swallows back the dying lust in his voice and replaces the phone against his ear as Hinata continues to make personal amendments to the word problem (it’s not even remotely about math anymore and he’s just making up his own little narrative about setters on Mars or something), chancing a trembling inhale and spreading his messy fingers in front of his face and interrupts, “Hey, Hinata?”

“—Yes, Kageyama?”

“I don’t understand this math stuff.”

“Oh thank god, neither do I.” Hinata breathes an audible sigh of relief. Kageyama hears some shuffling again and the creak of bedsprings as Hinata undoubtedly throws himself against his mattress. Kageyama pictures him jumping up and down on it like a trampoline like some idiot kid, and for some reason _that_ adorable visual makes him blush as he’s looking for something to clean cum off his stomach.

“Back to doing homework in bed?” Kageyama teases, dragging his shirt up and over his head to use to clean himself in favor of actually getting up. Being a pervert takes a lot of energy, okay?

“Nope!” Hinata sings quietly. “Back to doing bed things!”

“Um…” Jesus, Hinata. Kageyama throws his gross shirt onto the floor, tucks himself back into his sweatpants and drops a hand over his eyes. He’s going to ask. “Bed things?”

“Duh – sleeping? Moron.”

“People do other things in bed!” Oh…did he really just say that _?_ The awkward silence to follow crawls through Kageyama’s tired body and he peeks at the ceiling, wondering if maybe saying that was exactly the terrible idea that he felt it was. But then,

“Oh? Like what, Kageyama?”

“Huh?”

“You know, what other _bed things_ are there? I’m so very curious.”

… _Is he?_

“Are you…?”

_…Flirting with me?_

“Er—homework, dumbass! You were _just_ doing homework! In bed! That’s a bed thing!”

“Right. That. Obviously.” He sighs. “So…how was practice?”

Kageyama blinks. “Uneventful.”

“Did you miss me?”

“Hardly.”

Hinata giggles. “So a little bit?”

With a sigh of his own, Kageyama surrenders to the obnoxious glow in his bedroom and swings his legs over the side of the bed and rises, a little shakily, crossing the room to switch off his desk lamp. “Shut up.” He grumbles, settling back into bed against the headboard. He flinches in the dark at the cold wood against the bare skin of his back. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Mmhmm~ so much. Lots and lots.”

“Fantastic.”

“You have no idea.”

“Um. What?”

“N-nothing! I just…feel better is all! I’m sorry for being…kind of a…a jerk. Today.” Hinata says softly with a strange cadence.

“It’s alright…” Kageyama clears his throat and puts his face in his hands. He feels disgusting. Tired and disgusting and incredibly guilty. How could he have just done that to him? To _Hinata?_ How can he be having these depraved feelings towards such a pure, radiant soul who just has some naïve little crush on him? Hinata probably doesn’t even understand his own feelings. How could he actually _like_ someone like Kageyama? Hinata has obviously never looked at Kageyama with anything aside from childlike wonder and admiration, and Kageyama is the one with the debased brain that’s creatively despoiling the chaste motives of his angelic teammate.

But right now…tired, spent, and remorseful, annoyed that Hinata sounds too happy and cute for his own good considering what just went down on his end of the line, he still kind of…just really wants to talk to him.

And that’s frightening.

“So…how was the rest of your day?” Kageyama cringes at himself. He can’t even ask a simple question without sounding like an asshole.

“How do you think it was, stupid? I was—AH!”

Kageyama bolts upright at the distinct sound of Hinata falling off the bed and the phone hitting the floor. “Hey!” He snaps, alarmed. “Hinata!? What the fuck!?”

Silence.

“Hinata!?”

“S-sorry!” Hinata comes back on the line. “I—I was reaching for something! Ahh…I fell. I’m fine!”

“You’re going to kill yourself someday, clumsy dumbass.” He says, hesitantly relaxing back.

“Aw.” Hinata breaths a short laugh over the sound of him shuffling around his bedsheets. “Would you be sad, Kageyama?”

“If you died!? Of course I would!”

“Would you, though, Kaaageyama?”

“What the fuck!” Kageyama hisses. “What a stupid—WHY do you keep saying my name like that?” He grabs his pillow and hugs it against his chest. What the fuck is Hinata doing?

“Like what, _Kageyama_?”

“Stop it!”

“Oh…you don’t like it?” Laughter.

“That’s not—I don’t—shut up. Why aren’t you asleep yet!” He snaps, scowling at nothing and drawing his knees up.

“Why aren’t _you_ asleep yet?” Hinata lilts.

“Because some dumbass called me about homework!”

“Mm…yeaah~. Sorry… _Ka_ geyama.”

“I said knock it off!”

“Make me,” The little shit giggles again.

“You—“

“Ka – gey – a – maaa.”

“I’ll hang up on you!”

When Hinata falls silent, Kageyama wonders if maybe he hung up on him instead. He pulls the phone away from his ear but the call is still active. He frowns. “Hinata?”

“Would…would you really?” Hinata asks, his voice barely audible and pinched with dejection.

And now Kageyama’s heart is in pieces. Because _fuck he’s cute_ and _fuck_. Just fuck. What the hell is he doing? He’s all over the place tonight.

“Of course I would.” He answers gruffly. “Why am I even still talking to you?”

“…please don’t hang up on me Kageyama.” He pleads in that same, heart-wrenchingly melancholy voice. One that says ‘you’ll hurt me, I know, but please be gentle.’ 

Kageyama drops his head against his knees and groans. What a fucking rollercoaster. How he can break his heart with something so trivial is beyond him, and very, _very_ worrying. He has to get a grip on himself...or else this is going to spiral out of control. Because yeah.

He knows he’ll hurt him, too.

And it definitely won’t be gentle.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to say it that time.” Hinata continues, so very quietly. He’s never heard him sound so sad. Angry, upset, defeated – plenty of times, but never _sad_. Over a fucking _phone call!?_ “I’m…I’m really sorry for bothering you. I just wanted to…I’ll let you go…I know you’d rather be sleeping than talking to m—“

“I wouldn’t hang up on you, dumbass.” Kageyama interrupts, voice soft and rough with the guilt swelling in his throat.

“…really?”

“Yeah. Really.” He sounds irritated. He _is_ irritated, but not at Hinata; he’s upset with himself. Masturbating to him over the phone, getting carried away Saturday night. Wanting so badly to hold him again.

“Promise?”  

None of those things are okay.

Because all those things mean that this is not the last time he’s going to have to hear that heartbroken voice.

But maybe if he acts quickly…he can at least minimize it.    

“Yeah.” He sighs, unfolding himself and throwing the pillow back against the bed before stuffing his face into it, squeezing his eyes shut at the hole tearing apart his chest.

Because as torturous as it is not allowing himself to tell Hinata that he…has feelings, too, it’s nothing compared to the inevitable, unimaginable pain of—

No. No that’s not going to happen. But he’s going to have to do something soon or it’s going to be far too late. Fuck, it probably already is.

He’s still several years from the phrase ‘self-preservation’, but the concept is easily understood and far too familiar.

“I just wanted to tell you that…I’m sorry for getting mad today.” Hinata says, a pouty, embarrassed tint to the hushed admission. Kageyama wants to smush his face. “That’s mostly why I called…”

“And for the homework.” Kageyama reminds him, unable to keep himself from smirking into the pillow.

“Mmnn yeah. That too.” He yawns all sleepy-like.

Yeah, it’s definitely too late. “Go to sleep, dumbass.”

“I don’t wanna.”

He’s got to act fast. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“But I like talking to you.”

Fuck. “We aren’t talking about anything.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Hinata asks with his small voice already so heavy with sleep.

He’s got to pull away. “You’re the one who never shuts up. You think of something.”

“I’m too tired to think of anything.”

Not all at once, but in stages. “Which is why you need to go to sleep!”

“You can’t make me.”

Aa painful as it might be he can do it. “You owe me something for my fifth win today, right?”

“Mmhm.”

Step one: Start to push him away. “You said I could have anything?”

Hinata laughs, quiet, and maybe still a little sad. “Yeah, Kageyama. Anything.”

“I want…” _‘For you not to call me anymore.’_

“Hm?”

_‘Because I don’t think I can handle it.’_

“Kageyama?”

_‘In fact, just stop talking to me outside of practice.’_

“Are you still there?”

“I’m still here, dumbass.”

“So…”

 _‘Because I’m just going to hurt you.’_ “I want you to go to sleep.”

“Oh…”

“So I can…so we can have you back at practice tomorrow.” Kageyama’s hand is firmly over his eyes. _‘Because that’s the only way I’m ever going to be able to have you.’_

“I knew you missed me.” Hinata giggles softly.

“Shut up.”

“Okay.” Hinata yawns again. “I guess I can give you that. You’ll owe me something next time, though.”

“Anything.” Kageyama unintentionally whispers.

“You say that now.”

“Hm?” Kageyama lifts his hand.

“Goodnight, Kageyama.” Hinata mumbles sleepily.

“I did miss you.” He says, inaudibly.

“Hm?”

“Goodnight…Hinata.”

Kageyama just lets his arm drop limply to the side of the bed, the phone sliding from his fingers to the carpet with a quiet thud. He’s pretty sure he didn’t even bother to end the call.

_Shit._

 

 

 

Failed step one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh.
> 
> I'm already working on Hinata's POV during their phone conversation but it's going to be posted as a stand-alone one shot because it's not really going to drive the plot forward...I just want to know what the hell Hinata was doing during all that (yeah, like we don't already know). 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!! You guys are still overwhelming me with kindness and I wish I was better at receiving it so I'M SORRY if I'm falling pathetically short on my 'thank you's and whatnot. 
> 
> xoxo


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER!!!
> 
> Okay. So. This is not really the next chapter. What this is is Hinata's POV during their last phone call. It's garbage - silly, rushed, underdeveloped and poorly written trash that I cranked out in response to the completely shitty time I've been having lately. 
> 
> Think of this as chapter 9.5 or maybe something that doesn't even exist at all.
> 
> To those of you who have stuck with me this far, I'm so so sorry to present you with something so awful after a long stretch of silence. Feel free to skip this entirely - I might come back and rewrite it or delete it completely once I come to my senses. But if you want some poorly-paced nonsensical shit reading material, please enjoy :D
> 
> oh and....now I have to change the rating to E!
> 
> Also, the name of the porn vids that Hinata comes across are real. I didn't make any of them up. Just...throwing that out there.

“Why isn’t my incense working!? Guuuhhh, this is like the second time!”

“Are you sure you’re doing it right?”

“Of course I’m doing it right! It’s broken!” Hinata whines into his home phone, waggling his occupied cellphone above his face angrily, eyes narrowing at the bright screen in the dark room. “Kenmaaa, help me!”

“Well maybe you should try playing somewhere that isn’t your bed.

“You know I just woke up. Let me whine!”

“Shouyou—“

“Get out of my face, Weedle!”

“…Shouyou, you have to fix your sleep schedule – your game is going to suffer. Plus, it’s just not good for you. And catch him for the stardust.”

“It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose!” Hinata snaps, throwing his cellphone towards the foot of his bed and kicking his legs beneath his sheets in frustration. “I woke up and he was like…cuddling with me! It was the worst thing that’s ever happened! How do you expect me to sleep right after that!?”

“How is _that_ the worst thing ever? He touches you all the time.”

“It would have been fantastic if it had been intentional…” Hinata grumbles, tugging his blanket up over his face.

“How do you know it wasn’t?”

Hinata snorts. “Not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Mm.” Hinata grunts, mashing his hand against his aching chest.

“Why don’t you just ask him if he likes you?”

“Are you stupid? I already know the answer.” Hinata mumbles into his comforter.

“Well, then what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh man! I don’t know, Kenma!” Hinata hisses, flinging the blankets off of himself and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “My heart could break into a thousand million pieces and I could choke on them and die!?”

“So…if you already know the answer, why would your heart break?”

“I don’t want to hear him actually say it! How would you feel if the person you secretly loved told you he hated you to your face!?” He tries to ignore the way his voice broke on the word ‘loved’.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Kenma mumbles, distracted by something on his end of the line. Some video game, probably.

Hinata sighs and slumps back against the wall. “With annoyance? Disgust? Occasional pity?”

“No…when you’re not looking at him—“

“Please.” Hinata puts a hand over his face. “Please stop. You’re hurting me.”

“How?”

“Because that teeny tiny microscopic part of me that hopes that you’re right won’t shut the hell up. I’ve accepted reality…you know that.” Hinata says angrily.

“Shouyou…” Hinata hears the sound of Kenma snapping his DS shut. “You really don’t know—“

“I’m a boy, Kenma.” Hinata interrupts sadly through his fingers. “He’s…he can’t be…why would it _ever_ be me? And he’s so…” He gestures vaguely to himself and sighs. “He could have anyone.”

“He’s not that great.” Kenma mumbles quietly. “Besides, you’re cute.”

Hinata snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m practically beating girls off with a stick.”

“Girls?”

“That’s why I need the stick.”

“No I mean…you’re probably more appealing to, like, guys…so—“

“I’m not going to have to beat _you_ off, am I?” Hinata laughs, then he frowns.  “…wait.”

Kenma sighs. “If you’re not going to ask—“

“Hold on! Are you saying I look like a girl!?”

“No. If you’re not going to ask him, you at least have to do something.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“Have you ever tried blatantly flirting with him?”

“I’m not doing that!” Hinata shrieks as quietly as possible, flopping onto his side and curling his legs up to his chest. “He’d get all creeped out and stop talking to me all together…oh no, no, okay THAT would be the worst thing that could happen. Oh god…if he stopped talking to me…I…I don’t know what I would do!”

“Um…he thought you tried to kiss him and yet he’s still talking to you. I don’t think some suggestive teasing is enough to make him shun you forever.”

“Okay, first of all I convinced him that I didn’t try to kiss him.” Hinata jumps to his feet and begins pacing around his room. “Second—“

“Must have been some pretty magical convincing.”

“It was! Wait, what?”

“I was _there_ , remember? It was pretty obvious.”

“B-but he’s stupid, right? Easily fooled? Gullible?”

“I don’t think he’s as dumb as you think he is.”

“Kenma!” Hinata stomps in place, twisting his free hand into his hair. “Whose side are you on!?”

“Yours. Which is why I’m giving you advice that I think will work.”

Hinata dives back into his bed pulls the sheets back over his head before mashing his red face into the pillow. “Mmmhphn nnmm phmmh.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know how to flirt anyway!” Hinata raises his head and huffs.

“Really?”

“Yes really!”

“Oh…I mean, you’re sort of…how little self-awareness do you have, exactly?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Just talk to him like you always do…but tease him a little.”

“That’s not flirting. I do that anyway.”

“Yeah…I know.” Kenma sighs. “Well do it more. But like… be cute about it and get him all flustered. Seems like that should be easy enough.”

“Kenma, why do you know these things?”

“Kuroo.”

“Oh…well…but _I’m_ the one who always gets all flustered! He gives me this look and I get all _gwaahh_.”

“So call him. He can’t give you looks over the phone.”

“Yeah but his _voice…_ I’m not going to call him just to experiment with flirting! How weird is that!?”

“Call him for something else. What’s the big deal? You call me all the time.”

“You’re different…I can’t just call him to talk about stuff.”

“Why not? You’re friends.”

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but he’s not exactly the chatty type.”

“Neither am I, yet that doesn’t seem to stop you.”

“Shut up.  I’d be too nervous, anyway.” Hinata finishes, voice hushed and face aflame.

“So relax or something. Do whatever helps you calm down before a game.”

“Throw up?”

“Are you still doing that?”

“Sometimes!” Hinata throws the blankets off. He sure is restless. “You know this is hopeless. I don’t know why you’re trying to get me to make a fool of myself.”

“I wouldn’t advise it if I didn’t think he would be receptive to it. Really, Shou…you don’t seem to see what the rest of us do.”

Hinata sits up, eyes wide. “Who’s ‘the rest of us’?” He whispers in alarm. “Kenma…how many people know about this?”

“Calm down, I haven’t told anyone anything. That’s not what I meant, anyway.”

Hinata makes a strangled whining noise and digs his heels into the mattress.

“You should call him.”

“ _You_ should call him.”

“Shouyou.”

“ _Kenma._ ”

“Relax. Call him. I have homework to do.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

“You’re going to call?”

“No. I’m acknowledging that you’re abandoning me.”

“Stop being so dramatic.”

“You’re the worst friend ever, Kenma.”

“I know.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Night, Shou.”

“Goodnight.”

Hinata sighs and drops the phone against his chest before stomping his feet against the bed like a toddler having a tantrum.

 _Relax_. He thinks, raising his head off the pillow to eye his cellphone at the foot of his bed. _Sure._

He presses his head back into the pillow in heated frustration, unseeing eyes blinking at the dark ceiling. Relaxing isn't exactly something he’s good at. But…Kenma was definitely right. His game is going to start to suffer if he doesn’t start taking responsibility for his health…and then Kageyama is going hate him and then he will get kicked off the team and eventually die sad and alone, his jersey wound in his hands and his heart full of regret.

_‘Stop being so dramatic.’_

He frowns and sticks his tongue out at no one; he’ll be as dramatic as he damn well pleases! But then he smiles, giggling to himself and smothering his laugher with his fingers.

Because as much as his brain is crying out in agony, reminding him again and again that Kageyama would never, _ever_ , under _any_ circumstance willingly cuddle up against him…it still happened.

Once he allowed himself to actually process the events of Saturday night – once he was able to barrel though the utter mortification of what he did to Kageyama while he slept – he knew from then on that he would cling to the physical memory of waking in his friend’s arms, revisiting the comfort and the warmth of Kageyama’s body curled around his own. That ever-so brief look of genuine affection in his sleepy blue eyes after Hinata dozed off, head resting against his chest. The feeling of his warm hand in his hair – gentle instead of violent, comforting instead of angry.

Hinata squeezes his eyes shut and drags his own small fingers through his sleep-tangled hair, simulating the motions that he knows he’ll never get to experience again.

God – lack of sleep sure makes people do some crazy things.

S _tupid Kageyama._

Hinata mindlessly scrubs his eyes with the back of his other hand, wiping away a tear that managed to sneak out. But as tortuous as those recent memories were proving to be, they were his. They hurt like hell but they belonged to him, the cause of the pain _belonged_ to him, and even if it didn’t make any sense – why he would want to desperately savor something that hurt him so deeply – he wasn’t going to give up the only fleeting moments of bliss that he had right now, even if that bliss was saturated with sad confusion and even sadder understanding.

He isn’t going to let it go.

Blinking again up at the ceiling, he gently places his hands against his stomach, absently running his fingertips along the edge of his t-shirt, thinking he should probably try relaxing like a normal person and just jerk off. Unfortunately, these memories of his were doing less to get him horny, and more to make him feel kind of lonely.

He squirms a bit and raises up onto his elbows, narrowing his eyes towards the end of his bed before setting the home phone beside him and clambering towards his cellphone.

Porn wasn’t really his thing. He much preferred his own thoughts to the weird over-exaggerated moaning and alarming roughness that pervaded the gay porn sites he found online, but whatever, he’s just looking for a quick fix tonight so porn it is. Actually, he _did_ find a guy who looked just a little bit like Kageyama a couple weeks ago, too bad his partner made the most unattractive faces and was loud and ugly and terribly annoying, but the other dude was hot enough that Hinata was almost able to focus on him for a few minutes before his thoughts drifted unsurprisingly to the _real_ Kageyama… _so_ if he could just find that again…

Lying on his stomach, he sticks his fist against his cheek and inattentively swipes through dozens of uninteresting cocks, wrinkling his nose at the decidedly unsexy terminology always used to label each clip of video.

 _‘Drilling ass bareback’, ‘first-time facial and fisting’, ‘army fuckers foursome’._ He grimaces. _Where’s all the volleyball themed stuff?_ Swipe. _‘Hot gay jocks sex orgy.’ Um. No._

He huffs out angrily, ready to toss the phone away and burrow back into his sheets until he sees it – a video modestly titled ‘Cute’. He cocks his head. It’s definitely the same Kageyama-ish guy, only this time he seems to be by himself.

Hinata jabs his finger at the screen so hard he almost knocks the phone from his hand.

And he’s right - porn-Kageyama is alone, slowly stroking himself while sitting on what looks like a bed in a hotel room. He’s not looking at the camera – he actually looks somewhat shy, as if this isn’t something he does for a living. His eyes are lowered but he seems very focused, slowly pushing his cock through his fingers. Hinata wets his lips when the actor’s eyes flicker up at the camera, lips forming the faintest of bashful smiles as he rolls his hips upwards.

The guy is definitely hot, not as hot as Kageyama, obviously, and he’s a little older (he hopes), but he’ll do for now. Their hair is more-or-less the same and he’s tall.

It’s porn. Beggars can’t be choosers.

It takes a few minutes of some light, over-the-clothes touching and rewinding and fast-forwarding of the video before Hinata is fully hard beneath his pajama pants, the phone resting on his bed and propped against the wall as he lies on his side, slipping the waistband below his hips and wrapping his hand around himself, fully intending to make this quick. 

His breaths are soon coming rapidly and the warmth in his face mirrors the heat pooling low in his belly; he’s slick and dripping onto his sheets, the bright screen beside him reduced to nothing more than a glow behind his shut eyelids as he feels himself getting close – blocking out the visual aid in favor of predictably turning towards his own lurid thoughts of his teammate.  

He’s pumping faster now, with images of the real Kageyama bright in his mind; they are back in the tent, Kageyama’s is wrapped around him again, his body warm and chest pressed flush against Hinata’s back and his breathing is ragged, breath hot against Hinata’s neck. Hinata whines when Kageyama shifts his hips forward – Hinata reaches backwards to grab a fistful of Kageyama’s shorts at his thigh, urging him to _do that again_. And he does, only this time a hand claps firmly over Hinata’s mouth, muffling a needy whimper.

_‘Quiet, dumbass.’_

And Hinata moans again at the low, breathy command in his ear, Kageyama’s voice gravelly and hushed. He licks at the fingers at his mouth, pulling and biting at them until Kageyama is sinking his teeth into Hinata’s shoulder, quieting his own moans against Hinata’s sweat-slick skin.

Hinata keens softly at the prick of pleasure-pain, rolling his tongue around the digits in his mouth as Kageyama thrusts hard against him.

 _‘Hinata…’_ Kageyama whispers, _‘More…’_

Hinata nods, _actually_ nods, real Hinata nods and whines into his sheets, so very close, all he needs is something…something just a little more…something like—

“Come here…”

His eyes snap open, heart stilling at the startling voice coming from the video he had entirely forgotten about in his own little fantasy. He narrows his eyes and lifts his head, frustrated, but curious, hand slowing over his cock, because that voice…that voice was _interesting._

Hinata watches the small screen as another actor walks into frame and moves hesitantly towards the bed. New Guy is definitely not his type – no, he looks more like _him_ if he had to make a snap comparison, but Hinata continues to watch as the smaller man reaches the edge of the bed, placing one knee and then the other onto the mattress, straddling the other before leaning forward to kiss him.

Hinata reaches forward slowly and taps at the screen. He liked that voice…he liked it a lot. It was deep, quiet. Affectionate. Maybe possibly similar to what Kageyama would actually sound like if—

Okay, that’s obviously not something Hinata will _ever_ get to hear, but he can pretend. He taps at the screen again to replay the voice, watching the man’s eyes as he looks past the camera, calling to his partner.

Yeah – it _could_ be Kageyama’s voice.

Hinata taps the screen again, gripping himself with his other hand and closing his eyes, waiting, imagining those words coming from Kageyama’s mouth, asking Hinata to come to him.

 _‘Come here, Hinata._ ’

Hinata bites his lip, opening his eyes to tap the screen again.

It’s not enough.

He huffs out an angry breath and squeezes his eyes shut defiantly. Screw the porn – he doesn’t need it.

No, but he needs _something._

He drags his hand over his hot, wet flesh, getting desperate in his need for some kind of release that just isn’t coming. His mind drifts back to Kageyama against him in the tent, fingers in his mouth, hard cock pushing against his ass and heated moans in his ear.

Hinata breathes out a hard, short breath through his nose and reaches behind himself. He’s fingered himself before, though the level of frustration he is usually left with because of his small fingers is _maddening_ , but now is a good of a time as any to try again.

He imagines Kageyama’s fingers leaving his parted lips, a shift of their bodies, and then a sensation pressing wet and warm against his entrance – teasing him, Kageyama’s other arm snaking up under his neck to press a palm against his lips again, making sure Hinata can’t get to his fingers with that needy little mouth.

Hinata groans, rocking back onto his own fingers and squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling of the intrusion. It’s always weird, but each time he does it, the stretch seems to feel just a bit better, less painful and slightly more pleasurable than the time before. Maybe he’s just getting used to it, or maybe it’s something he’s actually starting to enjoy.

But he knows – he _knows_ – that he will never be able to simulate the feeling of Kageyama’s long, beautiful fingers inside of him. It’s a feeling he will never know, but he is _good_ at pretending.

He’s the _best_ at pretending.

And as he pumps his leaking cock, fucking himself shallowly with his fingers, he realizes…he realizes—

“Come here…”

That he absolutely _sucks_ at pretending tonight.

His eyes fly open and he releases his cock, back-handing his phone in anger and wincing at the loud _thunk_ ing noise it makes as it falls down between the wall and his bed. Grumbling in frustration and ignoring the fact that the phone is likely lost forever, he presses his face into his sheets and continues to attempt to fuck himself with his stupid short fingers.

It soon stops feeling like he’s fingering himself out of pure spite and more like he’s actually getting somewhere this time. Raising onto his knees, he ignores his cock and just allows it to drip onto the sheets, curling the fingers of one hand inside himself and bracing against the bed with the other.

_‘Hinata…Hinata…’_

“K-Kageyama…” He moans, dropping his face into the crook of his elbow.

_‘Hinata…come here.’_

_No._ He shakes his head. _No that doesn’t make sense._

He pops back up, leaning back onto his heels and gripping his cock again, pumping furiously, desperate to come, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes in frustrated agony as his mind continues to bombard him with incongruous sounds and images.

Instead of being behind him, Kageyama is in front of him, no, _below_ him, in the tent. He’s laughing, pulling on his hand.

 _‘Come here_.’

And that’s not even a fantasy. That actually _happened_. And now his heart aches and his cock is throbbing and his fingers are _just too short_ and he needs…he needs _something._

_‘Hinata…’_

He needs Kageyama.

_‘Hinata…’_

He needs his fingers.

_‘Come for me.’_

He needs his _voice._

 _That’s_ what he needs. He lets go of his dick, hurriedly wiping his hand on the already-filthy sheets and snatching the phone next to him.

He rolls his hips downwards as he punches in the phone number, breaths leaving his lungs in short, quick gasps as the line rings.

And in a moment of crystal-clear lucidity he stills completely – fingers inside himself, phone pressed against the side of his face, cock straining against his dread-filled stomach.

He swallows, eyes widening in terror.

The ringing stops.

The line clicks.

And time stands still.

“What?”

Hinata swallows his fear. “Kageyama?” He can still get out of this.

“Hinata?”

Hinata’s cock jumps at Kageyama’s deep voice cracking over his name.

“Where are you calling me from?” Kageyama snaps.

Hinata looks down in panic at his dick, he involuntarily tightens around his fingers and hisses inwardly at the feeling. _Don’t say your bed, you idiot._

“Huh?” He says instead, pulling the phone away from his face in confusion. _Oh._ “Oh...” He breathes out in understanding. “My house. My house phone. My cellphone is…” He glances at the space between his bed and the wall, “Somewhere.”

“You lost your phone?”

“No!” Hinata squawks. What? He didn’t _lose_ it. It’s probably still playing the video, now that he thinks about it. 

“D-did you need something?”

 _Shit_. _SHIT. YES. I need…_ “Mmm…oh! The biology homework!” _Wait. Do I even take biology?_

“Biology homework?”

Hinata tries not to audibly gulp. “Yeah?”

“We aren’t in the same class, dumbass!”

 _Shit._ “I-I said the math homework! I mean, I was  _looking_  at my biology textbook because I was just doing the homework so I accidentally  _said_ —“

“Hinata…”

The absurdity of the situation is starting to get to him. His cock jumps again at the sound of his name, and he can’t believe he’s actually on the phone with stupid Kageyama while his fingers are stuffed inside of him. It’s all so surreal that he feels a new heat begin to creep into his face – not one of shame or embarrassment, but one that may accompany the moments before a person descends into complete lunacy. He bites his lip as Kageyama breathes out what might be an annoyed laugh.

“I need you to tell me that you realize we aren’t in any classes together. It’s important that you say that.”

Anger instinctively flares inside Hinata at the mockery in Kageyama’s voice. “I know that, asshole!” He snaps. “I’m not stupid! We have the same teacher! He gives all his classes the same homework!” _Oh god, is that even true? Shit, I didn’t think this through…_ “Right?”

The silence on the other end gives Hinata another moment to question his sanity and readjust his fingers, though this time, a shockwave of pleasure rockets up his spine and he pitches forward, falling onto his face and biting his lip desperately to keep himself completely quiet. He’s sure Kageyama just heard something, but all he says is,

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

 _Stupid Kageyama._ “Well I  _was_ , but I have responsibilities you know!”

Kageyama snorts. “Since when?”

“Since…” His fingers curl and a light flashes behind his eyes. “…forever?” He can’t manage anything above a whisper. He needs to stop. He can’t be doing this…but dammit it feels _so good_. He hesitantly pulls his fingers from himself and drops back to rest against the wall, kicking his pajama pants off and spreading his bent legs slightly before pressing against his entrance again at a different angle. He chances a clipped, “Well?”

“Well what?” Kageyama snaps as Hinata slips two fingers back inside himself, sighing out,

“Math homework?”

“Do you know what time it is?” Kageyama demands, voice carrying an odd muffled quality.

Oh shit. Hinata has _zero_ idea what time it is. Christ, it could be three in the morning for all he knows. Oh god. Kageyama was probably sleeping; he’s probably all cozy and warm in his bed and Hinata interrupted his precious sleep for _what!?_

 _To fuck myself to him over the phone, obviously._ Hinata’s heart drops, his body immediately flooding with guilt. “I…don’t, actually. What time is—“ Hinata snaps his mouth shut and his eyes get momentarily wide.

He swears…he _swears_ Kageyama just moaned.

But that is almost laughable.

Why would he be moaning while he’s talking to him? He doesn’t even _want_ to be talking to him! He just woke him up for some absolutely ridiculous reason. What a selfish little—

“We don’t have a math assignment!” Kageyama growls, confirming what Hinata had just been suspecting – he probably hates him, probably can’t stand the fact that Hinata dared call him in the middle of the night.

“Oh…” Hinata whispers sadly, pulling his fingers out and letting his hand fall limply beside him, hanging his head in shame.

 “S-so…do you need anything else?”

“No…I guess that was it…um…sorry for bothering you, Kageyama.” Hinata feels a lump rising in his throat, his voice cracking around Kageyama’s name. Why did he do this to himself? To Kageyama? What the hell is wrong with him? “I’ll let you g—“

“Wait!”

Hinata jumps at the urgency in Kageyama’s voice. His head snaps up and he furrows his brow, yanking the phone away in startled fear.

Apparently yelling in the middle of the night is acceptable in the Kageyama household.

“Wait.” Kageyama repeats quietly as Hinata replaces the phone against his ear. “I forgot…we do have a math assignment.”

Hinata’s stomach flips at the sudden change in Kageyama’s tone, he sounds almost excited…happy maybe, the words losing their meaning completely and he hears himself say, “Oh! Good!” About being informed of math homework that he didn’t know about. Hinata hears some rustling and the faint sound of laughter.

“Did you just say ‘good’ about math homework?”

“Maybe.” Hinata snickers from behind his hand before realizing where his fingers had just been, which makes him giggle even more.

“Problems…five through ten on page one thirty-seven.”

“One thirty-seven?” Hinata wrinkles his nose. They finished that chapter like a month ago. “Aren’t we done with that stuff?”

“I said TWO thirty-seven, idiot!” Kageyama bites.

“Oh…alright.” Hinata frowns. Great. At least he gets to talk to Kageyama…even if he’s snapping at him about math homework. But now he actually has to _do_ _math homework_. He grumbles, “Let me get to my desk…”

“Your desk?” Kageyama asks. “I thought you said you were already doing homework?”

 _Oops._ Hinata creeps over to his desk and clicks on his lamp before dragging his messenger bag onto his chair. “I was!”

“Where? In your bed?”

“Maybe!” _I was certainly doing_ something _in my bed, you ass._

Hinata realizes with some vague amusement that he’s still rather hard as he grumpily flips through his math book, he shoulders the phone and pumps himself lazily, shoving his bag off the chair with his knee before kneeling on the seat.

Hinata finds the page and peers at the material through blurry eyes, trying to make sense of the text as he continues to stroke himself but it’s proving to be impossible.

“Kageyama…I don’t know any of this stuff. Are you sure this is right?”

“Well…were you conscious at all during math today?” Kageyama teases with a lilt to his voice that makes Hinata bite his lip

“True. Shut up.” He mumbles.

“I haven’t done it—either, so…we can do it—them. Together. The problems. Together.”

Hinata stills his hand and frowns. Kageyama suddenly sounds really weird. “Um…” He’s confused at this offer. This is…too nice. “Over the phone?”

“No, come over here right now.”

Hinata’s heart flutters and he makes a choking noise.

“Idiot.” Kageyama adds.

Hinata snorts. _You got that right._ He looks down, mildly annoyed to see dribbles of precum falling onto his chair. He swirls his thumb around the head and bites back another moan.

 “I’m not going to teach it all to you, though!” Kageyama says quickly.

“I didn’t ask you to! As if you could anyway!” _Yeah, because I’ll be too busy jerking off to your voice._

“Shut up.” Kageyama says. “Just read the first problem.”

“Don’t you have your book? Or can’t you read?” Hinata scoffs at the request, taking his slick fingers and reaching behind himself again, gripping the desk so as to not topple off the chair.

“Do you want my help or not? Just…read and I’ll follow along.”

Hinata distractedly scans the page as he works his fingers in and out, trying to find the spot that made him see stars before. He groans, knowing that he’s close but it’s _just_ out of reach. “…these are really long problems.” He says breathlessly, knowing that he needs to say _something_.

“Quit whining!”

“I’m not whining! Ugh…fine.” He gives up on finding the spot and just slowly fucks himself. “The first one—“

“Read slowly.”

Hinata breathes out a puff of air in annoyance. “The. First. One.” Hinata repeats in time with his shallow fingering. He blinks rapidly at the page, trying to see the words because he _does_ want to appease Kageyama…he’s just having a little trouble focusing. “Um…alright,  _the International Space Agency has finally landed a robotic explorer on an extra-solar planet…_ what’s ‘extra-solar’ mean?”

“No idea. Does it really matter?”

“Wait. Is this some trick?” Hinata freezes; maybe this isn’t Kageyama being nice, _maybe_ this is Kageyama trying to get him to do his math homework for him… _maybe_ there isn’t even any math homework at all and the jackass is just trying to make a fool out of him!

“T-trick!?” Kageyama chokes out.

“To get me to do your math homework for you!” Hinata yell-whispers angrily. He’s not going to mention the other possibility because really, he’d rather be tricked into reading math at Kageyama over not talking to Kageyama at all.

Which is pathetic, he knows.

What the hell happened to his life?

“No. Jesus. Idiot.”

“Better not be.” Hinata sniffs and then continues, both reading and fingering himself. “…anyway,  _Some probes_ …pfft, ‘probes’” He laughs, given the slight coincidental situation. “… _Some probes are extended from the lander’s body to conduct various tests—_ I thought it was a robot? What’s a lander?”

“Ugh…Hinata…”

Okay wow, _wow._ Hinata grips the desk hard to keep himself from flying out of the chair. Whatever just happened in Kageyama's deep voice was _hot_. Something made him feel _good_ \- even though he knows Kageyama is just getting annoyed with him, something buried in the sound made Hinata positively shiver with pleasure.

“Okay okay.” Hinata swallows, breathing hard and reaching down to take his dick in his hand. _“_ _To demonstrate the crushing weight of gravity on this planet, the lander's camera is aimed at a probe's ground-level ejection port, and the port launches a_   _baseball_ …nope, a  _ **volleyball**_ _directly upwards at one hundred forty-seven feet per second_ ,  _about the top speed of a professional pitcher_ , I mean  _ **spiker**_ —wow, can you imagine? Spiking that fast? That would be like WAH-BAM! And then everyone would be like BWAHH—‘kay, sorry.” He’s babbling, his head spinning as he pumps and fucks himself. “ _The force due to gravity on this planet is ninety-eight feet per seconds squared_ ……..”

His voice almost fades completely out of his head as he curls his fingers again, losing himself to the fullness and knowing that Kageyama is listening innocently on the other end, probably sitting at his desk, chewing on his pencil while he tries to figure out just what the hell is going on in this math problem while Hinata is forcing his fingers deeper and deeper inside of himself.

 Poor Kageyama.

He fades back into the words on the page, his voice rambling on about something related to space and volleyballs. He has no idea what he’s reading – what he’s saying. But he feels so good, and if he can maybe get Kageyama to get mad at him again or something and whisper his name _like that_ again…

 “………..Okay, so do we have to figure out the size difference since I changed it to a volleyball? H-how big is a volleyball? Should I measure it? Nng—I—I have a ruler. Will a ruler work? I can try to find a tape measure if I have to…”

Shit. _Shit._  Kageyama isn't saying anything this time. “…Kageyama? Are you there?”

“Y-yeah.” Kageyama whispers, his voice sounds a bit strained. Maybe he’s thinking really hard… “I…I don’t know that one. Read another.”

“Do you understand it at all? Kageyama, h-help me!” _Yeah, help me!_ He wants to moan, wants to tell him that he’s close. _Please help me come, Kageyama. I really want to come..._

“I’m trying! Read it again…slower. Quieter.”

“Quieter?” Hinata repeats. Is he being loud? Fuck, he has no idea what his voice sounds like right now.

“You’re always—t-too loud.” Kageyama sounds like he’s in pain. Well, yeah. Math is sort of the worst and Hinata would be in pain too if he wasn’t doing what he’s doing. “Please.”

“What? ‘Please’!?” Hinata stops everything and screws up his face. What is going on? He’s certain Kageyama has never even once said ‘please’ in his life, especially not to him.  “Fine.” Hinata grunts, gripping himself firmly. “Can I keep it about volleyball?”

“Mhmm…” 

And yes – _yes_ – there it is again, something in that hum of a response makes Hinata’s heart beat even faster as he starts again to ramble on about what might possibly be printed on the page, though he really has no idea. He can’t even be sure what language he’s speaking right now as he grinds down onto his fingers, working himself open, losing his mind as he struggles to speak and imagine himself with his legs wrapped tightly around his teammate; whispered pleas of _‘Hinata, please, more’_ and _‘yes’_ s punctuated with heated moans in his ear, strong fingers gripping into his hips and in his hair, tangling and yanking his head backwards to suck and nibble at his throat, bright flashes of light obstructing his vision as he loses control of himself and lets slip a quiet:

“K-Kageyama…“ 

He holds his breath, the line is totally quiet as he continues to thrust into his hand and rock back onto his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels himself about to break, about to scream, about to fucking die because then Kageyama whispers, coarsely, lowly:

“Hinata?” 

And he’s coming; he’s coming onto his desk and onto his math book, spilling hotly down his knuckles and onto the chair. He bites his lip in sheer desperation, yanking his fingers out of himself to grip the phone as he pitches forward, knocking his head onto the desk as his cock pulses in his small hand, wave after wave of blistering pleasure tearing through his body with Kageyama just on the other end of the line.

And with the last few tremors of bliss leaving his body he takes a breath – a small breath, a quiet one. He doesn’t think that Kageyama heard a thing because he’s completely silent. Actually, he’s _way_ too quiet. But Hinata is pretty certain that if Kageyama had any idea what just happened he would be screaming at him, or at the very least immediately hang up on him. So then…

“What are you doing?” Hinata chances hesitantly, raising his head and surveying the damage.

There’s _a lot_ of _damage._

“Same thing as YOU, idiot!” Kageyama growls as Hinata whips off his shirt, wrinkling his nose as he tries to mop up some of the splatter that found its way onto his math book. He blinks dumbly at the book, then down at himself, then back at the t-shirt in his hand that is doing nothing more than just smearing the sticky fluids around the page. He abandons the shirt on the book in a crumpled ball, leaning forward to drop his face into his hand.

 And then he laughs.

Softly at first, nothing more than a few quiet titters, but then he’s smothering his uncontrollable giggles with the back of his hand. “I highly doubt that, Kageyama.” He says through his bubbling laughter. 

He takes a few seconds to laugh crazily to himself, wondering how insane he would look if someone were to suddenly open his door.

Maybe they would think that he just really likes math.

“So where were we?" Hinata clears his throat once his laughter quiets. He's feeling floaty, head swimming a bit as he pokes at the shirt covering the sticky pages. Yeah, he's definitely not going to be able to read any more tonight. "Mmm…so, if like, you were trying to send me a toss on the moon, think you could do it wearing a space suit?" Hinata asks, imagining astronaut Kageyama scowling at him from inside his helmet. "Man, it wouldn’t feel as good spiking a ball with those big bulky gloves on. But like, when there is a colony on Mars, do you think there will be volleyball games? I wonder who would be the first setter on Mars. There’s no way he would be as good as you, right? Oh god, what if there—“

“Hey, Hinata?” 

Hinata swallows and holds his breath. Maybe Kageyama heard something after all. “—Yes, Kageyama?”

“I don’t understand this math stuff.”

“Oh thank god, neither do I.” Hinata breathes a sigh of relief and unwinds himself from his sticky chair, standing beside it with a look of mild disgust and grabbing the soiled t-shirt from off of his book and swiping haphazardly at the mess on both the furniture and himself. He sighs and drops the shirt on the floor before snapping off his lamp and leaping back onto his bed.

He actually feels…incredibly relaxed.

“Back to doing homework in bed?” Kageyama teases.

“Nope!” Hinata sings quietly. “Back to doing bed things!”

“Um…bed things?”

Hinata licks his lips and smiles. “Duh – sleeping? Moron.”

“People do other things in bed!”

Hinata arches his brow at the sad attempt at what could possibly have been Kageyama’s attempt at a sex joke.

And at any other moment in time, Hinata may have become a sputtering, stammering mess…but right now he feels unimaginably good. Giddy, almost. Hell, this could be the only time in his life when he might have the chance to try what Kenma was talking about.

“Oh? Like what, Kageyama?” Hinata presses, slipping in an air of sarcastic innocence to his voice.

“Huh?”

“You know, what other  _bed things_  are there?” He bites his lip. “I’m so very curious.” He really just wants to hear Kageyama say something dirty.

“Are you…? Er—homework, dumbass! You were  _just_ doing homework! In bed! That’s a bed thing!”

“Right. That. Obviously.” Hinata sighs. Kageyama is no fun. “So…how was practice?”

“Uneventful.”

“Did you miss me?”

“Hardly.”

Hinata giggles. “So a little bit?”

“Shut up.” Kageyama grumbles.

Hinata’s stomach flutters.

“Are you feeling any better?”

 “Mmhmm~ so much. Lots and lots.”

“Fantastic.”

“You have no idea.” Hinata sits up, remembering the fate of his cellphone and flops onto his stomach, wedging his arm down between the bed and the wall and starts to grope around blindly.

“Um. What?”

“N-nothing. I just…feel better is all! I’m sorry for being…kind of a…a jerk. Today.” Hinata says softly, distracted as he feels around under his bed.

“It’s alright…” Kageyama says before clearing his throat.  “So…how was the rest of your day?”

Hinata grunts, pushing his shoulder against the wall to grant himself maybe just one more centimeter of space to squeeze his arm down further. “How do you think it was, stupid? I was—“ Then the bed unexpectedly shifts too far away from the wall, swallowing Hinata face first into the space as he eeks out a cry of surprise.

Upside down and wedged next to his bed, Hinata whines and kicks his legs, somersaulting into a sitting position in the narrow space, shaking his head and reaching beneath him to retrieve his cell and then behind him to retrieve the other phone.

He blinks a little dizzily and jumps back onto his bed, pressing the phone back to his ear.

“Hinata!?”

“Sorry! I was reaching for something! Ahh…” He breathes out a laugh. “I fell. I’m fine!” 

“You’re going to kill yourself someday, clumsy dumbass.”

“Aw.” Hinata breathes, shimmying around in his bed. “Would you be sad, Kageyama?” He asks, completely joking as he bundles himself in his blankets.

“If you died!? Of course I would!”

Okay, even though Hinata knows that Kageyama would obviously be distraught if he died…he kind of likes hearing him profess it so seriously.

He kind of wants more.

“Would you, though, Kaaageyama?” Hinata grins stupidly. He feels drunk – despite having no idea what that feels like, he’s sure this might be close. Drunk on post-orgasmic bliss and Kageyama’s flustered voice in his ear, dizzy from almost breaking his neck.

“What the fuck!” Kageyama hisses. “What a stupid—WHY do you keep saying my name like that?”

He almost sounds panicked.

Hinata can’t get enough.

“Like what,  _Kageyamaaa_?”

“Stop it!”

“Oh…you don’t like it?” Hinata laughs maniacally, twisting around in his bedsheets like a little psychopath.

“That’s not—I don’t—shut up. Why aren’t you asleep yet!”

“Why aren’t  _you_  asleep yet?” Hinata lilts.

“Because some dumbass called me about homework!”

“Mm…yeaah~. Sorry… _Ka_ geyama.”

“I said knock it off!”

“Make me,”

“You—“

“Ka – gey – a – maaa.” Hinata’s voice peals with quiet laughter as he rolls around his bed. He had no idea that flirting could be this much fun. Is that what he’s even doing? Is that what this is? Has he had this power all along and he just never realized—

“I’ll hang up on you!”

Hinata immediately chokes back his laughter, his stomach plummeting.

He went too far.

Oh right. This isn’t flirting, this is just making Kageyama mad. Something he’s always been just a little too good at…but that’s the last thing he wants now.

He squeezes his eyes shut and curls into himself.

The reality of the evening starts to creep up on him – how disgusting he is for doing something so horridly shameful. How he doesn’t deserve Kageyama’s friendship, least of all his love.

Not like he’d ever expect that sort of thing.

But he just wishes so bad that Kageyama liked him…just a little bit. God - he would give anything for Kageyama to like him, to have some sort of feeling for Hinata that extended beyond what may have been considered acceptable.

He would do anything for Kenma to be right; for what he had been telling Hinata for months to be true, that the way Kageyama behaves towards him isn't normal, that there must be something hidden behind those cold blue eyes that would suggest that maybe Hinata's feelings are, to a much lesser degree, returned. And that maybe if Hinata doesn't give up, if he doesn't succumb to the pain of unrequited love that maybe someday—

“Hinata?”

But wishing has never gotten him anything. 

And he knows Kageyama better than anyone.

And dreams just don't come true. He's known that since the beginning.

“Would…would you really?” Hinata asks, tears welling up while he tucks his head down against his knees to keep the pain in his chest in place. Humiliation flooding his veins at how pathetic he must sound.

“Of course I would.” Kageyama snaps. “Why am I even still talking to you?”

But it still hurts so much.

“…please don’t hang up on me, Kageyama.” Hinata hears the words slip out as tears spill down his cheek. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to say it that time.” He sniffs, sort of hoping Kageyama can’t tell that he’s actually crying, too sad to really care all that much. “I’m…I’m really sorry for bothering you. I just wanted to…I’ll let you go…I know you’d rather be sleeping than talking to m—“

“I wouldn’t hang up on you, dumbass.” Kageyama interrupts softly.

Hinata picks his head up at the sincerity in Kageyama’s voice. “Really?” His heart daring to fill with hope against his will.

“Yeah. Really.”

“Promise?” He sniffs again, wiping his eyes.

“Yeah.” Kageyama sighs.

Hinata answers with a sigh of his own. What if he just blurted it all out right now? That he’s in love with him? What he just did? What’s really the worst thing that could happen?

He almost starts laughing again. The worst thing that could happen might kill him.

“I just wanted to tell you that…” _That I love you._ “I’m sorry for getting mad today. That’s mostly why I called…” He finishes with a lie.

“And for the homework.” Kageyama says, a smirk evident in his voice.

Hinata smiles. Alright – maybe he didn’t mess up completely. “Mmnn yeah. That too.” He stifles a yawn. He’s suddenly completely exhausted. This whole love thing really sucks the energy out of him.

“Go to sleep, dumbass.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Stop being so stubborn.”

“But I like talking to you.” Hinata can feel his eyelids getting heavy.

“We aren’t talking about anything.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“You’re the one who never shuts up. You think of something.”

“I’m too tired to think of anything.” He feels himself drifting.

“Which is why you need to go to sleep!”

“You can’t make me.”

A pause. “You owe me something for my fifth win today, right?”

“Mmhm.”

Another pause. “You said I could have anything?”

Something in Kageyama’s tone pricks his heart – he really would give him anything. Anything in the world. He laughs softly. “Yeah, Kageyama. Anything.”

“I want…”

Hinata battles sleep, needing so badly to hear Kageyama’s request. “Hm?”

But Kageyama says nothing.

“Kageyama? Are you still there?”

“I’m still here, dumbass.”

“So…”

A sad, soft sigh. “I want you to go to sleep.”

“Oh…”

“So I can…so we can have you back at practice tomorrow.”

“I knew you missed me.” Hinata giggles at the edge of consciousness.

“Shut up.”

Hinata can’t help but revel in lack of malice in the command. “Okay.” He yawns. “I guess I can give you that. You’ll owe me something next time, though.”

“Anything.” Kageyama whispers in a way that means so much more to Hinata than what was intended, Hinata knows.

“You say that now…”

“Hm?”

“Goodnight, Kageyama.” Hinata mumbles. Kageyama says something in return, but it’s too quiet to hear. “Hm?”

“Goodnight…Hinata.”

 

 

“Mmn…I love you.” Hinata murmurs, already enveloped in the soft embrace of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @caqqucino absolutely destroyed me with some fabulous artwork inspired by this trainwreck of a chapter. It's totally nsfw and totally 1000000% sexy af --->
> 
> <https://caqqucino.tumblr.com/post/151349385787/porn-wasnt-really-his-thing-he-much-preferred>. SPOILER ALERT: DAT ASS
> 
> Please join me in a prayer circle to bless her existence <333333 She is officially one of my all-time favorite people and I LOVE LOVE LOVE her style. GUH. loOK AT HINATA! LOOK AT HIM!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short update in honor of HinaKage day yesterday! And I wish I had more to give in honor of Nishinoya's birthday, especially since the chapter after the next one will actually be about Nishinoya's birthday party. BUT! stay tuned for another update very soon :) I have 90% of it written already.
> 
> And oh, how big of a slut am I for kagehina lunch time? Like, I can't NOT write about these two eating together. I guess I just find having lunch together to me an incredibly intimate activity. Maybe?

“You look better.” Kageyama says to the sandwich in his hands as Hinata upends his own lunch bag, spilling its contents onto the grass in front of him. He hums loudly to himself—such a Hinata thing to do—contemplating the banana or the bag of chips and flicking a finger on his bottom lip.

Kageyama lets his eyes slide covertly to the side, searching for any sign that Hinata might have some suspicions regarding his perverse activities last night. There’s no _way_ Hinata would be sitting here eating lunch with him if he had any idea, right? But you can’t blame a guy for a little healthy paranoia. So since Hinata is quite clearly blissfully ignorant, he’s really just watching Hinata lick his lips while he peels the banana, completely unaware that Kageyama wants to grab him by his slim shoulders and shove him roughly to the ground, or maybe up against the fence—

“Mm!” Hinata eventually answers around a full mouth. “I feel great! Kinda worried about that math homework I didn’t do.” He swallows and pauses for a beat, staring at the banana before taking another bite. He certainly doesn’t look worried. No – he looks…kind of amused.

Kageyama doesn’t trust himself to make any sort of verbal response that isn’t at least half-way wildly mortifying, so he just scowls and angrily watches Hinata eat.

The frown vanishes completely from his face when those big brown eyes turn towards him. “Think we’ll get in trouble?”

 _I_ am _in trouble._ Kageyama thinks, letting his eyes drop to the way Hinata wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb. He grunts and turns his attention back to his lunch.

“What’s your problem?” Hinata asks with a clipped snort, grabbing for his chips.

The frown is back and Kageyama snaps his head around. “Some asshole kept me up all night!”

Hinata arches a brow, struggling to open the bag. “I would hardly call a half hour ‘all night’.”

 _Shit_. “Sure felt like it.” Kageyama grumbles before taking a bite of his sandwich. It takes great effort to peel his eyes away from Hinata’s adorable little fingers ineffectively clawing at the bag, his tongue poking out the side of his lips—such a Hinata thing to do—to instead glower at the ground.

He doesn’t mention that, no really, he _was_ up all night, almost; after ending their call, he tried his damnedest to come up with ways to somehow subtly end his friendship with the only thing that’s ever managed to make his heart race other than volleyball, but every time he conjured up a mildly fool-proof plan, that small, heartbroken voice would again bubble into his brain and those sad eyes would punch a hole in his chest, and he found himself right back at square one.  

So, yeah, _some_ asshole _did_ keep him up all night.

He never specified who.

And the only thing he managed to successfully come up with was that he was definitely going to have to jerk off again, because eventually, picturing those big watery brown eyes pleading with him for some explanation as to why Kageyama can’t be around him anymore just segued into Kageyama wanting to comfort him, which led to some kissing, which led to some touching, which led to—

“Give me that!” Kageyama growls, dropping the sandwich into his lap and snatching the bag of chips. He opens it with zero difficulty and holds it out to the other with his face turned away. “Here.”

When Hinata doesn’t take the bag immediately, Kageyama peeks back over at him; the little smirk he is met with sets his face on fire and he shoves the bag into Hinata’s chest.

“My hero!” The annoying little shit sings with a huge grin.

“I think I hate you.” Kageyama mumbles, sitting back against the fence, trying to mask his defeat.

“You don’t.” Hinata says, happily munching away. “You excited for Nishinoya’s party?”

“I guess.” Kageyama replies in the least excited way possible. He might as well have just said ‘no’.

“Are you…um…” Hinata swallows awkwardly and licks salt from his fingers in a way that makes Kageyama sort of feel like he’s going to spontaneously combust. “…planning on spending the night?”

“I…don’t know yet.” And he doesn’t. Not because he hasn’t thought about it, because he has. A lot. He’s mulled over his options, weighed the pros and cons, done the math (math will never be the same for him again) and right now, all of the reasons why spending the night in the vicinity of Hinata again would be a horrible idea start swirling around in his head. And the number one reason is:

He knows there will be alcohol at the party.

But _really_ the number one reason is:

He’s not sure if he’ll be able to control himself – regardless of the alcohol.

He knows he will likely not be drinking said alcohol; he knows that Hinata will also likely not be drinking said alcohol because Hinata drinking alcohol would be like a ten-year old drinking alcohol.

But he also knows that stranger things have happened.

He doesn’t really have any experience with drunk people, except for that time at his uncle’s wedding when he was twelve and the event was so over-stimulating for him that he hid in the coatroom for most of the night. And that glass of wine his mom let him have a couple years ago just made him feel sick and sleepy. So really the only frame of reference he has is from what he’s seen in movies and on TV – the lowered inhibitions, the apparent lack of regard for personal space, the loud voices, the sloppy dancing and even sloppier kissing. He’s not dumb enough to think that everything in movies simulates real life, but it can’t be _that_ far off, right?

And now he’s consumed by images of a blushy, tipsy little Hinata – loud as fuck-all because he’s already _so fucking loud –_ being just a little too clingy, a little too bold and…and… _looking_ at him. And…and…saying… _things._ And knowing Kageyama’s luck, he’d likely be put in charge of babysitting the stupid little shit. Maybe Tanaka would offer his bed so the tiny drunk could rest for a little while, and Kageyama would probably have to carry him up the stairs, and knowing Hinata, he would struggle and flail and pitch a fit so violently that Kageyama would be forced into holding him tighter until they reached the bedroom, where Kageyama would likely try to just dump Hinata on the bed to get the fuck out of there as fast as possible (yeah, okay), but Hinata would probably be latched on to him and accidentally tug Kageyama down on top of him—

_Accidentally._

“Probably.” Kageyama adds, trying to sound blasé and sitting cross-legged, determined to eat the rest of his sandwich despite the fact that his mouth is full of sawdust and he’s pretty sure he’s sweating now.

Cause, goddammit, he sort of would _really_ like all that to happen.

“Oh…good.” Hinata replies quietly, fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie. “It wouldn’t be as much fun if you didn’t.”

“Since when am I fun?” Kageyama frowns after taking another bite. Obviously Kageyama knows that Hinata likes to hang out with him, but hearing Hinata attach the word ‘fun’ to him must be some kind of joke.

And it is. Sort of. Because Hinata snickers behind his hand and says,

“You _aren’t_ fun, and yet for some dumb reason I still love being around you.”

So…‘choked up’ isn’t an accurate description of what Kageyama is at hearing those words, but he definitely chokes – alright, so it’s a _literal_ description of what he is. Because Hinata says this so brazenly, so shamelessly; throwing around the word ‘love’ like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

And maybe it’s the offhandedness of the comment that jars him, because Hinata is looking at him like they are talking about the weather.

Does he even realize what he just said?

Hinata _should_ be embarrassed (Kageyama certainly is!), he _should_ be stuttering and stammering and backpedaling and doing all of the things that are _so fucking_ HINATA _things to do_ , the things that Kageyama’s become so accustomed to, because he’s never, _ever_ said anything like that before.

But he’s _not_ doing the Hinata things.

Why. WHY is he not!?

And staring at Hinata’s naïve, smiling face while he holds out a stick of licorice to him, Kageyama realizes why.

Hinata has no reason to feel embarrassed.

He has no reason to feel weird about saying that he loves anything about Kageyama, because he _doesn’t_ love Kageyama.

People who secretly love other people don’t use that word in front of that person – especially not _towards_ that person. But Hinata isn’t affected by the oppressive anxiety, the crushing self-consciousness that should accompany secret feelings of affection, biting his tongue when words like that might crop up.

The feelings that Hinata has just…aren’t that strong.

Not that Kageyama thought they were, honestly. Not that it isn’t such a Hinata thing to say dumb, overly personal shit at any given moment.

Come on; it’s not like Kageyama actually thought Hinata _loved_ him.

A crush, sure. Yeah, that’s what it is.

But with this realization come two others: (1) He _did_ think that Hinata loved him, and (2) he _wants_ Hinata to love him.

Because now that he knows he doesn’t, without a doubt – Hinata does _not_ love him – it feels like the world just spun out from under him.

“Kageyama? Are you alright?” Hinata frowns, waving the candy in front of Kageyama’s face.

Kageyama blinks. “Yeah.” He says, plucking the licorice from Hinata’s fingers and turning towards the open courtyard.

He leans an elbow onto his knee and rests his chin in his palm as he mindlessly gnaws on the licorice and stares off into space. They finish lunch in relative silence, though every couple of minutes Hinata giggles about something and shares his thoughts, like he always does.

Whatever – Kageyama isn’t really listening. He’s…bothered. Distracted.

 _‘Be embarrassed, dammit!’_ He wants to scream.

Because the reason Kageyama understands that anxiety so completely – why someone who harbors secret feelings would be so afraid, so terribly careful about using that word – is because he would never, _ever_ be able to say something like that himself. Probably not to anyone, but definitely not to him. Definitely not to _Hinata_.

And with that realization comes an unavoidable other.

But he shoves it down, clearing his throat and quickly gathering his garbage beneath Hinata’s judging gaze. He doesn’t know why he feels like he needs to leave, but he really, _really_ needs to get the fuck out of there.

The air is so thick he can’t breathe.

“We’ve still got fifteen minutes, you know.” Hinata says as Kageyama stands and wipes his hands on his pants.

“Yeah I…there’s some stuff I have to do.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact and grabbing his backpack off the ground.

“Is it math homework?” Hinata smiles wryly, leaning back onto the fence.

“Shut up, dumbass.” He turns with every intention of making a hasty retreat. But then,

“Bye bye then, _Kageyamaa~._ ”

He freezes and slowly turns back. Hinata has rolled onto his stomach in the grass with his chin resting on his fist, and with the other hand he’s twiddling his fingers at Kageyama like some sort of coy school girl with pinked cheeks and absolutely no reservations.

The flirty little fucker.

He has no idea what’s suddenly got into Hinata, and he can’t figure out if it he likes it or hates it.

Yeah, he obviously doesn't hate it. 

Kageyama puffs out a frustrated breath and turns on his heel, cramming his hands into his pockets and stalking away with a mumbled “see you at practice” that comes out humiliatingly broken.

He stares intensely at the ground as he flees; again, shoving away that last realization, stuffing it back down inside of himself where it belongs. But really all he’s doing is jamming it into places that it wasn’t already. His body filling to the brim with it as dread knots his stomach, and his heart—

For fuck’s sake his _heart_.

He turns a corner as that last realization creeps prickling under his skin, oozing out of him with sweat from his palms and slithering into his chest cavity, twining around his lungs and squeezing the air from them. And no matter how fast his long strides can carry him along the side of the school – where is he going, anyway? – he can’t outpace that last fucking realization.

The sexual attraction he can handle - barely, admittedly, but it’s tolerable. Usually. The feelings of fondness, of genuine _liking_ , of wanting to be around him for any reason at all, he supposes it’s what it feels like to have a good friend, maybe a best friend. And he knows that there are a lot of people who have crushes on their best friends which never lead to anything.

And so what if he’s been thinking about Hinata drunkenly hanging all over him this weekend. So what if he masturbated to him, like, once – it doesn’t mean he wants to fucking marry him. So what if he’s daydreamed about him getting too touchy and accidentally dragging Kageyama into bed with him, pushing his warm lips against Kageyama’s ear and whispering, ‘ _stay with me, Kageyama’._

And he would. Of course he would; but for no other reason than for the chance to sleep with him again. To hold him and stroke his hair when the inevitable sickness hits, because he’s such an idiot he’d probably go _way_ over the top like he does with everything and drink too much for his small body to handle. Kageyama would bring him water and help him to the bathroom to puke and get him back into bed, let him cling onto him because ‘ _I don’t feel good, Kageyama_.’ And so he would hold him. And eventually Hinata would sleep, curled up against Kageyama like it’s where he’s meant to be.

Fuck. He’s going to be chasing that feeling for the rest of his life.

He stops in his tracks beneath the shadow of the school, dropping back against the cool bricks and sinking down to the grass to drop his face into his hands. A chilly breeze blows and rustles his hair, kicking up leaves and heralding the end of a hot fall, but the air is still stifling to Kageyama; he’s choking on it, suffocating, dragging his hands down his flushed face.

God help him.

He wants to feel those little fists wound in his shirt and feel blushed cheeks soft beneath his thumbs. He wants to see bright, honey-colored eyes full of gratitude and warmth and trust and…

And _love._

And he wishes he could say that this realization clobbered him over the head like a lead pipe – but it didn’t. It’s the culmination of a long, slow trickle of feelings into a glass that’s finally spilled over; that _keeps_ spilling because the tap is broken, the faucet has ripped from the wall and there’s nothing Kageyama can do to prevent the flood. He’s wet, soaked. He’s drowning; he’s fucked; he’s beyond any and all hope of rescue.

 

Because he’s hopelessly in love with Hinata.

 

And shit is going to hurt.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some weird volleyball drills out there.

“Yamaguchi! One more!”

“Make this one count, Tanaka. My hand is getting numb!”

“It’s not my fault Tsukishima’s big dumb head was in the way—YAMAGUCHI I WASN’T READY!”

“Being in the way is sort of the point of this.” Tsukishima yawns and shakes the sleep from his head while Tanaka chases after the ball, turning to Hinata dancing from foot to foot on the sidelines. “Your turn, runt.”

“This drill is weeeirrrd...” Hinata whines, bouncing into position anyway behind Tsukishima. “I don’t ever remember not being able to receive because one of you was in my way.”

“You can’t receive anyway! Shut the fuck up!” Kageyama shouts, taking over as server for Yamaguchi on the other side of the court.  

Hinata pokes his head out from behind Tsukishima to stick his tongue out at the setter, ducking back when the inevitable glare becomes too much for him to handle.

“When is this situation ever going to apply to an actual game?” Hinata looks up at Tsukishima while draging his fingers down his warm cheeks.

“I think Ennoshita has been watching too much basketball lately.” The blond mumbles, looking around at their teammates all in various stages of equally-bizarre drills. Then he snorts. “Might come in handy, though, when someone is too busy staring at your ass to recei—FUCK! What the fuck Kageyama!?” Tsukishima whips around while the ball that just bounced off his head rolls to a stop beneath the net.

“Huh? My ass?” Hinata asks, turning in a circle to look at his backside, missing the look of death directed towards Tsukishima from across the court as Kageyama sticks his hand out for Kinoshita to hand him another ball. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Tsukishima grumbles, rubbing the back of his head. “Let’s just finish this.”

Hinata frowns and gets back into position behind Tsukishima. He agrees with the taller boy – this drill is silly, and they are all pretty tired and cranky and he really just wants to hit some of Kageyama’s tosses before practice comes to an end. But now he has to be all self-conscious about his ass.

Speaking of his ass…

He awoke that morning to the telephone jammed painfully into his back and his mother scolding him for leaving it off the hook the entire night. Please – as if anyone would have needed to call their goddamn _home phone_ between the hours of…of… _whenever_ and six in the morning.  

And then it took about thirty seconds for the shame of the previous night to crash over him like a wave full of rusty beach trash, and every cell in his body screamed at him to just stay in bed forever, to let the guilt and embarrassment wash him away into a state of non-living. But he dragged himself up and out of bed anyway and curiously found that he just couldn’t keep the grin off of his face in the shower (or his hand off his dick, for that matter).

And _dammit_ if he hadn’t slept _great._

Go figure. He can’t.

Things were just sitting right with him since his phone-related misdeeds; he felt a bit lighter – less burdened, or something – and the day’s classes had been not quite as coma-inducing as they usually are. He realized that it had been a while since he actually felt _awake_.

He chalked it up to finally getting a proper night’s sleep, because he really can’t place what else it could be.

And boy, was he relieved that Kageyama had been wrong about their math assignment. He imagined sitting in detention, having to explain that, no, he doesn’t have his textbook to work on the problems he didn’t do. Why? It’s…um…

Sticky?

And maybe Kenma’s advice finally wormed its way into his unconscious during the night and he’s feeling a little more confident today. Maybe it’s the way that Kageyama _didn’t_ hang up on him after his sad attempt at flirtation (he’s taking that as a green light to try again, dammit!) that’s making him feel all fluttery.  

But now he can’t keep the heat from his face with Kageyama’s eyes all over him like that. The other boy had been much more scowley…scowlier…much more grumpy-faced than normal during their lunch and all throughout practice –which sounds almost impossible, he knows, but he swears the furrow in his brow was threatening to snap his face in half. Though despite the fact that Kageyama’s perplexingly angry gaze had been directed towards _him_ all day, for absolutely _no_ reason, he’d like to mention, Kageyama actually hadn’t been a single bit nasty or even slightly cold towards him – though he did sort of run away from him during lunch, he thinks. He still can’t figure that one out. But most of the angry looks were only aimed his way when Kageyama thought he wasn’t looking.

But, please, he’s _always_ looking at Kageyama.  

Whatever. Who knows what’s going on in that brooding head of his. As long as he isn’t being mean—

“Hey, dumbass! Get your fingers out of your mouth! You’re disgusting!” Kageyama yells, poised to serve the ball.

Yep. Business as usual.

Hinata jolts from his thoughts and yanks his hand away from his face, unaware that he had been gnawing on his nails as he was lost in thought.

“My nails are too long! I can’t help it!” He yells back, straightening up and shooting a glare across the court. “What if I scratch my eye out!? Or…or slit Tsukishima’s throat!?”

“You’re going to get the ball all spitty!”

Hinata scoffs and stomps towards the net, lifting his chin before jamming as many fingers as he can into his mouth in defiance. “I’ll show you spitty!” He says – _tries_ to say. His mouth is a little full.

Kageyama’s eyes get endearingly wide and his mouth drops open. He gapes at Hinata rolling his tongue over his fingers and going ' _blaaahh_ ' like an asshat for half a beat before shaking himself and firing a serve towards his face.

Hinata squeaks, flinching as the ball bounces harmlessly off the net.

“Hey!” Hinata stomps his foot and balls his fists at his sides. “What the hell has gotten into y--WAH!” He jumps backwards when another ball hits the net in front of him. Meanwhile, Tsukishima walks off the court with a roll of his eyes.

Kageyama’s eyes narrow and he searches around his feet for another ball, as Kinoshita has reasonably scampered off towards the bench to watch what will inevitably become an entertaining show.

It's been a while since they've disrupted practice like this. 

“Out of ammo, huh?” Hinata grins, folding his arms over his chest, pausing first to wipe his wet fingers on his shorts. But he spoke too soon, because Kageyama suddenly dashes towards the ball cart at the corner of the court and steps away with a ball in each hand.

 _Now he’s just showing off._ Hinata thinks, stomach twisting with both jealousy and probably arousal. _Those big goddamn hands._

“What was that?” Kageyama sneers and takes a step towards the net.

“Kageyama…no. No.” Hinata grinds out in his most threatening voice, striking a karate pose and taking a step or two backwards nonetheless.

“Hinata. Yes. Yes.” Kageyama answers, stepping forward with every word.

Hinata lets out a whine and drops his arms limply to his sides – mostly out of fear, but _mostly_ because hearing his name spoken like that in Kageyama’s lusciously deep voice sends shivers up his spine.

Kageyama continues taking slow, creeping steps towards the net with murder etched into his face – until a ball catches him in the back between the shoulder blades. He stops short and whirls around with eyes flashing and is met with Nishinoya’s wicked grin beside Tanaka, the latter tossing a ball into the air and catching it and displaying a grin of his own.

“What’s that saying?” The libero taps his chin with his index finger and looks toward the ceiling. “You should pick on someone your own size?”

Hinata loses his shit, erupting with laughter on the other side of the net, doubling over to clutch his stomach at the look of miffed confusion clouding Kageyama’s handsome face as he glares at the shortest member of the team. The setter opens his mouth to retort but is immediately smacked in the back of the thigh with another ball. He rounds on this new attacker, eyes widening in disbelief at the blushing face staring back at him.

“Sorry, Kageyama.” Yuu’s eyes flicker to a cackling Hinata before he drops his gaze with a dopey grin. But he doesn’t have much time to be bashful before a ball comes sailing his way from the sidelines and hits him in the chest. Yuu catches it and immediately takes off towards the other first year who threw it, and suddenly the gym explodes into an all-out war, with and the sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor and the harmless thudding of volleyballs off of body parts.

Even Ennoshita, who had been previously watching in silent judgement, is chasing after Yamaguchi.

Hinata’s laughter temporarily ebbs as he locks eyes with a smirking Kageyama amidst the pandemonium; he smiles and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at the hem of his shirt while fire works its way into his cheeks.  

He swallows, looking off to the side – which turns out to be a really bad idea because Kageyama takes it as an open invitation to bolt towards him.

Hinata yelps and takes off in the other direction, squealing with laughter as a ball whizzes by his face.

He zigzags and leaps over nothing as he flees to the other end of the gym, his heart singing with joy because he finally gets to hear _that sound_ again – Kageyama is laughing. Actually, maybe snickering evilly is a more accurate description.

But still, it sounds beautiful to him.

The chase is too quickly over, however, as Hinata finds himself trapped, having been so distracted by the sounds behind him that he’s run directly into a corner.

He spins around, smacking his hands back against the wall and pressing himself flat as Kageyama skids to a halt in front of him, dark blue eyes wild with wicked intent as he stalks nearer to his prey.

Hinata’s eyes dart from side to side, fingers curling into the wood as he searches for an out.

He finds one.

Kageyama cocks back his arm, ready to fire the ball at point-blank range. He takes one final, looming step and—

“Wait!” Hinata shrieks, shielding his face with his hands. “Wait, wait! please!”

“You can’t say ‘wait’ in the heat of battle!” Kageyama insists. He’s panting hard, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths but he lowers the ball anyway.

“How is it a battle if I’m unarmed!?” The tiny redhead wails, dropping to his knees and scrabbling pathetically at the wall.

“Well, maybe you should have thought about that before!”

“Before what!?”

“Before...before you started drooling all over your hands!” Kageyama snaps, taking another slow step forward.

“Don’t hurt me!” Hinata cries, curling into a ball and covering his head with his arms. “I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I’ll never do it again, I swear!”

Hinata bites his lip. When his cries go unanswered, he chances a peek at his incredibly distraught teammate, the arm toting the ball hanging limply at his side to match the other.

“I’m begging you!” Hinata sobs, turning back into himself. “Please don’t hurt me, Kageyama!” He finishes, his tone wobbly and breaking.

“You think I would actually hurt you?” Kageyama asks, voice strained.

“Of course I do! You hurt me all the time! You’re so scary!” Hinata weeps, ramping up his cowering and wilting further into the corner.

“Fuck, Hinata…” He whispers hoarsely after several seconds of fearful whimpering, “I wasn’t really going to—“

But he doesn’t get to finish, because Hinata launches towards him, snatching the ball and somersaulting off to the side to jump to his feet with a whoop of victory. He pins the frozen Kageyama with a (incredibly dizzy) ‘got you’ look and sticks out his tongue.

The setter blinks, bewildered for a couple of would-be breaths, but his face is blushed up to the tips of his ears and he looks like he hasn’t exhaled ever in his life.

But then he does – he starts breathing again and Hinata almost breathes a sigh of relief of his own. He has _got_ to get better at the ‘harmless’ half of this harmless teasing stuff.

Kageyama drops his face into his hand and sighs. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“It’s called being resourceful.” Hinata says proudly, sticking the ball under his arm. “Using what you’ve got, you know?”

“Oh?” Kageyama looks up in feigned interest. He crosses his arms over his chest. “What is it you’ve ‘got’, exactly?”

“Um…” Hinata averts his eyes and pokes at the ball. “Devastating...cuteness?”

Kageyama rolls his eyes.

“Kenma thinks I’m cute.” Hinata pouts, or pretends to. Calling himself cute makes him want to crawl into a hole and die a little bit. “It worked, didn’t it?” He mumbles, scuffing at the floor.

“Whatever you say.” Kageyama says, his mouth forming a hard line. He suddenly looks a little uncomfortable. He studies the floor in front of him before raising his head hesitantly; Hinata’s breath catches at the seriousness in his dark eyes before they dart away again. “Um—“

“Alright guys, that’s enough!” Ennoshita shouts. “We don’t need any broken noses before prelims. Let’s call it a night. Cool down and head home.”

They look at each other in silence before Kageyama finally turns away from him with a scowl, and Hinata follows behind to join the rest of the team for their cool-down stretches.

 

* * *

 

He’s unceremoniously yanking his clothes out of his locker in the club room when a “hey dumbass” pulls him from his thoughts, and Hinata turns his head just in time to see a nail file flying at his face. Okay, 'flying' is a bit of an exaggeration - it's more like a gentle lob, and it's one of those files made of what seems to be sandpaper and cardboard, and not the pointy "stab you in the eye" flying nail files. He catches it and stares down at it with his lip curled in mild confusion. “What the hell do you expect me to do with this?”

“You said your nails were long, so fix them.” Kageyama says blandly into his locker, zipping up his jacket.

“With this thing?”

“Are you serious?" Kageyama side-eyes him. "How useless are you?”

Hinata bristles, gripping the file in his fist as Kageyama slams his locker and steps towards him.

“And how are you not done changing yet?” The taller boy asks, eyeing the heap of abandoned clothes on the floor.

Hinata shrugs.

“Sit down.” Kageyama demands.

“Huh?” Hinata wrinkles his nose. “No! I’m not your dog!”

Kageyama sighs in exasperation, dropping to the floor himself against the lockers and looking up at the defiant redhead. “Sit.”

Hinata cocks his head in confusion. Alright, maybe he is a dog. Looking around at the few remaining teammates in the room, he hesitantly bends down despite all reason telling him not to, and kneels in front of the other a safe five feet away, his back against the bench with the nail file still clutched in his hand. “Now what?”

Kageyama rolls his eyes and extends a long arm forward. “Give it here.”

Hinata looks pointedly at Kageyama’s outstretched hand, then at the file, then back at Kageyama’s hand. He raises up onto his knees carefully, stretching, reaching out to cautiously deposit the thing into Kageyama’s palm like the other boy is made of fire.

He flinches hard when Kageyama’s other hand shoots out, capturing his wrist.

“What are you doing!?” Hinata demands, quiet panic in his voice as Kageyama drags him forward; thankfully the knee-pads he’s still wearing keep his skin from tearing against the rough floor, but that also means that Kageyama is able to pull him smoothly across the tiles. Hinata digs his sneakered toes against the floor in a desperate attempt to postpone whatever is about to happen to him, but he just ends up falling forward onto his face.

Or at least he would have if Kageyama hadn’t caught him.

“Calm down, dumbass.” Kageyama mumbles, righting Hinata and shoving back into a sitting position, his blue eyes flicking up to a justifiably alarmed face as he takes his hand again. “Let me know if I’m um...hurting you.”

And if anyone were to tell Hinata that Kageyama Tobio would one day be filing his fingernails, he would laugh in their face.

But…

Well.

“Kageyama!” Hinata hisses through his teeth after a few seconds, looking around at their uninterested teammates. “This is embarrassing!”

“If you hate it so much, leave.” Kageyama says, bored, switching from thumb to index finger.

So Hinata just sits there in stunned silence as Kageyama continues to smooth down his nails like it’s the most natural activity in the world. He licks his lips nervously, abating the panic that’s roiling around in his stomach because (1) Kageyama is _practically_ holding his hand (his _hand_!), and (2) Kageyama is so close that Hinata can smell him. It’s not the same as being near him on the court either; that smell in an entirely different context is a little overwhelming – that heavenly scent of clean sweat and practice clothes and the natural aroma of his skin that sometimes makes him shiver but he’s definitely  _not_ going to right now.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Okay, so maybe he did. "Feels weird." He mutters, meaning the drag of the board across his nails.

But he doesn't actually specify what.

Hinata swallows and prays to whatever god might take pity on him that Kageyama can't feel his hand trembling.

Alright, he can _see_ his hand trembling, despite being held tight in Kageyama’s strong fingers.

There is no god.

“G-good thing you were wrong about that math homework, huh?” Hinata blurts out the first thing that comes to mind to disrupt the silence and immediately performing some light mental ass-kicking for bringing that up.

And Kageyama…did Kageyama flinch?

Does Kageyama flinch?

Yeah. Yeah he does. He most definitely flinched; illustrated by the way knees are now bumped up against one another when they hadn't been before. He most definitely flinched and he’s most _definitely_ blushing. And Hinata says as much.

“Aw." He giggles. "You’re blushing.”

“Shut up.” Kageyama mutters, ducking his head.

And it’s the cutest thing Hinata ever did see.

“It’s okay, Kageyama,” He says, laughing behind his hand, “you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve been wrong before. It’s just homework. It’s not like—“

Kageyama exhales hard and slow out of his nose, releasing Hinata’s hand and leaning back against the lockers.

They stare at each other; they're staring one another down, rather. Well, Kageyama is staring Hinata down, face all flushed or not, Kageyama still knows how to be menacing.

Except it isn’t so much the look of anger in his eyes that sets Hinata on edge – it’s more of the way his hand fell and is now resting on Kageyama’s leg. It’s not like he can move it without being painfully obvious about it, either.

Hinata blinks up at him. “What?” He says, a little shakily.

Kageyama says nothing, but quirks a brow up expectantly.

Maybe he doesn’t look as angry as he originally thought. He just looks annoyed.

“What!?” Hinata repeats, itching to curl his fingers into his palm. 

 _'He touches you all the time.'_ Kenma's voice echoes _._ And yeah, he does, Hinata decides, which is decidedly pretty goddamn weird considering how uncomfortable he seems to be about...like, _everything_ _else_ in the world.

Maybe he's so socially broken he can't feel the sensation of human touch.

Or maybe Hinata has just become a little too sensitized to it. Because every nerve in his body is on fucking  _fire_ right now.

“Are you going to give me your other hand or not?”

_Oh._

“Oh. Um…yeah.” He mumbles, extending his other hand out. He thinks about moving the other one, the one currently lying on the side of Kageyama’s calf. He thinks _really_ hard about it. And then doesn’t.

The stupid boy just _had_ to keep his shorts on.

Another minute passes without either of them saying anything and they are becoming gradually more and more alone as the seconds tick by. Hinata stares down at his fingers, worrying his lip anxiously and trying hard not to fidget.

This is weird, right? Or is it normal? Is this what friends do? What would this feel like if he weren’t in love with Kageyama? Would his heart still race? Would he be sweating right now? Would Tsukishima be smirking at them with vague amusement if it were fucking _normal_!?

He turns his wandered gaze from that smug asshole and looks at the boy in front of him. And now Kageyama is looking at him, too. No, he’s  _watching_ him. He’s stopped filing and is watching Hinata chew on his lip. Blue eyes blink away and he resumes his task.

Hinata can’t take the silence any more. “You’d make such a good mother.” He says with a giggle. Yeah, that sounds like something he’d say. Something _normal_ that one friend would say to another as he’s _normally_ filing his fingernails in the middle of their club room. Cause everything is so _normal_ and all.

“Shut up.”

“Mommy...yama.” Hinata gasps, raising his eyes excitedly like he just solved a puzzle. “No! Kage-mama!”

“What is going on over here?” Nishinoya asks as he approaches from behind Hinata.

Hinata yanks his hand off of Kageyama’s leg, all _super_ nonchalant-like.

“Mommy-yaOUCH!!” Hinata wrenches his other hand away and rubs the back of his fingers with a stern glare. Kage-mama narrows his eyes. “Manicures by Tobio.” Hinata narrows his in return. “You want next?” He asks, side-eyeing Kageyama and hesitantly extending his hand back towards his friend.

“You guys are weird.”

 _Suspicion confirmed_. Hinata thinks as he hums in agreement while Kageyama’s fingers tighten just a little around his and he hunches further over their hands. “You ready for your party this weekend?”

“Hell yes I am! AND guess whose drivers test is tomorrow after school?”

“No way!” Hinata shouts, shifting his body to look up at the libero. “Oh my god, that’s so cool!”

“Isn’t it? My parents said that eighteen-year-olds should have their licenses. It’s about time, right? I mean, I obviously reached optimum maturity  _ages_ ago."

“Maybe,” Kageyama says without looking up, “but how do you propose to ‘ _reach_ ’ the pedals?”

“Kageyama!” Hinata reprimands, but starts laughing anyway at the smirk that works its way onto Kageyama’s partially-hidden face.

“It’s fine. I’ll just run him over.” Nishinoya says with a shrug.

“You’ll have to be able to see over the steering wheel for th—“ Kageyama blocks Nishanoya’s gym bag with one hand and Hinata ducks out of the way with a shriek.

Watching Nishinoya beat a sort-of laughing Kageyama is so heartwarming that Hinata can’t help but watch and grin stupidly. Socially broken or not, Kageyama truly has come so far. 

Nishinoya ends his assault with one final kick to Kageyama’s thigh and turns to saunter out of the club room. “See you pedestrians tomorrow.” He says as he opens the door. But before he walks through it, he takes one last backwards glance, catches Hinata's eye momentarily, and then closes the door softly on his way out. 

They are officially alone now, and Kageyama rests against the lockers with a deep sigh, knocking his head back onto the metal and looking down the bridge of his nose at Hinata. “Should I finish? Or do you want to leave?”

“No.” Hinata says a little too quickly. “I mean…you can um…finish. If you want.”

Kageyama nods and leans forward again, holding his palm out flat.

Hinata leans forward, too, and places his hand gingerly back into Kageyama’s. A very nerve-wracking gesture, if you ask him.

But Kageyama doesn’t start filing again. He doesn’t even move his other hand. No – he’s just…staring down at Hinata’s fingers in silence.

He’s not just looking at them, Hinata realizes while his heart climbs into his throat, he’s _examining_ them; brushing his thumb delicately over the back of his knuckles, finger by finger.

Kageyama stills; his thumb pausing over Hinata’s ring finger before he audibly swallows and opens his mouth to speak. Hinata can hear the sharp intake of breath and holds his own, waiting, fucking _needing_ to hear what Kageyama is about to say over the violent thrashing of his heart. But he says nothing. He closes his mouth and brings the file back to the tip of his nail.

“What—“  Hinata unintentionally whispers through the tension, wetting his lips and trying again a little louder. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

“You were obviously going to say something.” Hinata presses.

So Kageyama stops again, still holding Hinata's hand and gazing intensely at his fingers. Placing the file beside him he says, softly, without looking up,

"Was that true."

"Was what true?" Hinata whispers again in return.

Now Kageyama looks up. “Do I really hurt you all the time?”

And for the first time that day, Hinata can see the dark circles beneath those gorgeous blue eyes, beveled against a pallor that somehow managed to evade his attention until now.

Kageyama is exhausted.

Hinata’s heart melts. Then it sinks.

“Ah…” He starts - tries to start, but his voice is dust in his throat. “N-not all the time.” He stammers. He's becoming very aware of their breathing – it’s not in sync, but it’s close, his is outpacing Kageyama's, but not by much – and the way his knees are pushed up against Kageyama’s shins, the way he can see those faint freckles whenever he dares flick his eyes up to the other’s pained face. Yes – _pained_. They are so close that Hinata can count the zippered teeth on the his jacket, and that Hinata's hair rustles faintly over his forehead with every one of Kageyama's quiet exhales.

And he regrets the next terrible words that fall out of his mouth, even before they viciously spill out of him, but, like a flaming train barreling down the tracks, he can’t manage to stop them,

“But you do…” He swallows dryly. “Often.”

And then, crackling like electricity between them, is the calm before the hurricane.

Hinata can feel it. The shift, the change in the other’s body as stormy eyes blink. As if the nuclear bomb went off, Hinata can feel the fallout. 

So Hinata holds his breath again.

“Maybe…” Kageyama starts, quietly, almost carefully, like the word is difficult to pronounce, as he looks into Hinata’s eyes. But he’s not. Not really. He’s not even looking _at_ Hinata’s eyes but entirely _through_ them. Into him. “Maybe you should stay away from me.”

It takes Hinata a second to process what was just said. Because that's not the kind of thing you say with an expression like that. With that tone of voice.

Brown eyes drop to soft, parted lips. Hinata bites his own. He can't help it. 

And Kageyama moves so quickly that Hinata falls backwards onto his hands.

Kageyama is on his feet before Hinata can right himself; he’s fast, grabbing his bag off the floor and flinging it onto his shoulder, and in a whirlwind of anger and confusion is yanking open the clubroom door.

But Hinata is faster.

“Stop!” Hinata yells, frantic as his back crashes against wood, the knob wrenching from Kageyama’s grip and slamming the door hard with a shuddering bang, rattling the lockers and Hinata’s brain against his skull.

Red hair flutters over tightly shut eyes as he shakes his head, dizzy from the impact. His eyes fly open and he almost gasps; Kageyama now is standing over him, face in shadow and hand leaned against the doorway. He’s breathing hard, eyes impossibly bright in heavy contrast to his pale, shrouded features. His eyes are wild; piercing and deadly.

Hinata would say he’s breathtaking, if he were able to take a breath. A true test of the sentiment, he supposes.

His tongue feels sticky, thick inside his mouth as adrenaline tears molten through his body. Kageyama gazes down at him for a second, a minute, ten thousand years or maybe time has stilled completely – Hinata can’t be sure. He starts when Kageyama moves, ducking his head an inch towards him, expression perilous, though still unreadable.

He growls, “Move.”

But Hinata isn’t afraid of him.

“No.”

“Fucking move.” He grinds out, grabbing the knob again.

“Kageyama, _STOP_!” Hinata cries, fingers curling at Kageyama’s wrist. Kageyama recoils, pulling himself from Hinata’s grip as if it burned, taking two sharp steps backwards.

“Let me leave, Hinata!” He yells in a tight, thin voice that Hinata has _never_ heard from him before.

Or from anyone, for that matter.

“What the hell is going on with you today!?” Hinata stands tall, blocking the door and stepping forward cautiously.

“Just let me leave!” Kageyama’s voice drops to a panicked hush and he takes another step backwards, eyes jumping everywhere except Hinata’s face. “Please.”

“You don’t hurt me, okay?” Hinata lies, daring to take another step forward, holding his hands out as if to calm a frightened animal and ready to spring back to the door if the occasion calls. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Too late.” Kageyama bites dangerously. But he doesn't move away this time. “You can't just take something like that back!”

“Yeah, but I—“

“It's been said. Twice.”

“I didn’t—I mean—you—ugh, Kageyama!” Hinata stomps his foot. “This is stupid! Did I do something wrong? Is that why you’re being so weird!?”

“You’re being weird, too!”

“Ah-ha! So you admit that you’re being weird!”

“What!?” Kageyama screws up his face. “I’m not being weird!”

“You just said you were!”

Kageyama narrows his eyes. “Let me leave. Or else I'll hurt you again.”

Brown eyes roll hard and Hinata sticks his hands on his hips. “You will not. Stop being such a dick. You don’t scare me.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot.” Kageyama grips the strap on his bag at his shoulder with both hands. “You can’t—“

“It’s not like you do it on purpose!”

“What?” Kageyama hisses.

Hinata sighs and crosses his arms. “Hurt me, stupid. You don’t do it intentionally.”

“Oh no!?” Kageyama growls, stalking forward. Hinata drops his arms and jumps backwards, pressing himself flat against the door again. His eyes widen as Kageyama looms near, nostrils flaring and mouth pulled into a sneer. “What the fuck do you call this then!?” Kageyama grabs Hinata’s wrist, pulling his hand up in front of his own face.

‘Confused’ is an understatement.

“Huh?” Hinata asks stupidly, knocking the back of his head against the door so he can peer up at Kageyama through his fingers.

“Your fingers, dumbass!” Kageyama punctuates his statement with a shake of Hinata’s wrist.

“I don’t understand the question, you big dumb ape! Stop looming!” He tugs his hand away and behind his back.

 “I do not _loom_.” He backs off a step anyway.

“You loom! You loomer! You always—“

“I broke your fucking hand!”

“You broke…” Hinata blinks. “Huh?” He blinks again. “Like, just now?” Startled - because who wouldn't be at a dramatic statement like that - Hinata pulls his hand from behind his back and looks down. He seems to be uninjured...yeah, he's pretty sure he would have noticed something like that. Unless Kageyama means... "What the hell are you actually talking about?" 

Kageyama lets his bag drop to the ground. “I broke your—“

“I _heard_ you, idiot. That’s not…what?” Hinata’s getting frustrated. “ _I_ broke my _fingers_ that one time because _I_ jumped into the _pole_. But I have no idea what you--"

“ _Why_ did you run into the pole?”

"Um...because…I missed that spike?”

Kageyama gestures for him to continue.

“Because…your toss was garbage?”

“See!?”

“See what!? That was an _accident_! You can’t blame yours—“

“It wasn’t an accident!”

"Huh?"

"It was intentional!"

"It's not like you flung me into the pole! What kind of a moron are you!?"

"I made the toss go wide!"

“Ugh.” Hinata pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kageyama.”

“You…you were pissing me off…” Kageyama turns his face away. “I…sent you that shitty toss on purpose.”

“I know that.” Hinata says, lowering his voice and raising his head. "You think I can't tell when you're mad at me by now?"

Kageyama frowns, snapping his face toward Hinata. “You _knew_!?”

“I _always_ go for your shitty tosses!” Hinata says aghast, as if any departure from that fact is a complete impossibility. “And they’re only shitty when you’re trying to be an asshole!”

“Then why—“

“Because when I can hit them you stop being mad at me!” Hinata shouts and looks away. “And…sometimes you look…really happy. Or like…proud or something.” He can feel his skin heating, embarrassment clawing at the inside of his stomach but he powers through anyway. “A-and…I like when you look like that.”

When Hinata chances a look back at Kageyama, the other is staring at him in something akin to distress.

So he continues,

“It was my choice to go after it. And it was an accident. I never for one second blamed you for it.”

“It’s still my fault.” Kageyama says, defeated as he sinks down onto the bench.

"Have you seriously been feeling guilty about it this whole time?"

Kageyama doesn't say anything, just stares angrily at the lockers in front of him.

Sometimes body language is all Hinata has to go off of when it comes to Kageyama, so he's become sort of fluent. 

“Well. Then...I forgive you.”

“You what?” Dark brows furrow as Kageyama watches Hinata approach slowly.

“Mmhm. If it was your fault, then you’re forgiven!” Hinata grins, stopping in front of the other. "See? All better!"

But Kageyama continues to frown. “Why.” He doesn’t quite ask.

“I’ll always forgive you, Kageyama.” Hinata replies with a shrug.

And Kageyama looks at him, eyes wide like he was just slapped. He does such a good job of looking like that that Hinata wonders if he did actually slap him and somehow didn't realize it.

Nah, like a broken hand, he probably would have noticed that, too. And Kageyama finally says, quietly, seriously,

“One day you won’t.”

Hinata is taken aback by the gravity in Kageyama’s eyes. This is getting too intense for him, and he can't think of a better course of action than to giggle nervously and say,

“I doubt it.” He rocks back onto his heels, watching Kageyama’s knee bounce anxiously and ignoring the fact that they are almost at eye level with the taller boy sitting down. “I mean...honestly, you could probably do anything to me and I would forgive—“

“Ugh! Do NOT say things like that!” They aren’t at eye level anymore, and Hinata finds himself backed up against something for like the millionth time that day. But Kageyama covers his face with his hand and turns away quickly. “How could you…what kind of person says something like that? What the hell is wrong with you?” He asks, voice muffled by his palm. "

“Nothing’s wrong with me.” Hinata steps forward, away from the lockers. “You’re just…you’re...you don’t do those things on purpose. Even if you say you do…I know you don’t.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“You're my friend, you idiot. I-I think. I _know_ that if you didn’t do those things that I wouldn’t, um…that you wouldn’t be _you_.” Hinata fidgets with the sleeve of his shirt.

“That’s a terrible thing to say.” Kageyama turns back. His eyes are glassy.

“No it isn’t! You're...different! I like the way you are! A…a lot. If I didn't...um...t-then I wouldn't talk to you. Or eat lunch with you...or...or walk home with you. Or...do all those other things. With you." He wipes his sweaty hands on his shorts. "S-so…I forgive you. For that, and for any other dumb things you’re most definitely going to do in the future. I'm a lot tougher than I look, you know.” He smirks. "You can't break me that easily."

But Kageyama just looks like he's in pain again.

“Just accept that I forgive you, okay?" Hinata licks his lips, refusing to break eye contact, but it's becoming progressively harder as the seconds slip by. Kageyama isn't saying anything. So Hinata has to. Again. "I have an idea!” He jumps forward, clutching Kageyama’s hand in a stunning display of bravery that he's already patting himself on the back for. “Let me break your fingers!”

Kageyama blinks down at Hinata, his face is surely blushed but something is keeping him from caring.

"That would make us even, right!?" He can feel his grin faltering. "Which one is least important for setting? Is it this one?"  _Say something, Kageyama!_

Kageyama is looking at him with one of those completely blank expressions that makes Hinata want to punch him in the face or maybe break his fingers for real.

His long, perfect, graceful fingers that make his pulse race and palms sweat; the fingers that were just  _all over_ his own hands and are now clutched tight in his grip with their owner gazing down at him and...smiling.

Yeah, Kageyama is smiling. Trying to hide it, of course, but it's unmistakable. 

“Alright, alright." Kageyama shakes his hand away, not unkindly. "I accept it, dumbass." He sighs deeply. "Change so we can leave." He adds, walking to and opening the door. 

Hinata's heart beats like he just won a volleyball game all by himself. Like something important just happened. He's feeling good. “So…” Bold, even. “If you really accept it…”

A dark brow twitches up in question.

He sticks his hands on his hips. “Prove it!”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

_You can do it, Shouyou! Confidence!_

He dons his most charming smile and opens his arms. "With a hug, stupid."

Kageyama snorts and steps out into the night with a shake of his head. “Don’t push it, dumbass.”

 _Can’t blame me for trying_. Hinata thinks, dropping his arms with a short laugh. “I was obviously kidding!” He yells out after Kageyama. And he was, sort of. It's not like he actually expected it to happen. He turns and stoops to gather his clothes, muttering to himself, “Cause it went _so well_ last t— _GKLLAH!"_

The sudden, violent tug on the back of his t-shirt that yanks him up is quite clearly a precursor to his imminent death, because, oh god!

He's under attack!

He's being strangled!

Crushed!

Smothered!

He's dying!

Maybe if he screams loud enough Kageyama will hear and come rescue him!

But he's paralyzed with fear - can't call for help, can't even move with his face shoved against something solid...but oddly...soft. But this is it! This is the end for him!

 _I love you, Kageyama!_  He thinks.  _Please don't forget me!_

Maybe if he thinks hard enough his last thoughts will reach their intended audience! 

But he is such an idiot.

He's not dead. He's not dying.

And his attacker smells  _amazing._  

Hinata gasps against soft, fragrant fabric over a strong, broad chest as a warm hand presses against the back of his head, gentle fingers flexing into his hair.

He's felt this before. But not quite in this way. 

He's being hugged.

He's being hugged by Kageyama Tobio.

If you'll excuse him, he'll go back to dying right about now.

And just as he regains movement in his limbs, right when the tips of his quivering fingers start to curl into the back of Kageyama's jacket, a palm is pushing into his face, shoving him backwards. 

"Hurry the fuck up, jesus." Kageyama mumbles, as Hinata staggers backwards before finding his footing. Speechless, he watches the other's back as he retreats into the night.  

It’s about ten years before he can move again; drenched in a cold sweat, he walks stiffly towards the door. He stops at the threshold, staring out into the darkness in utter shock. Is he breathing? Is he alive?

"What the f—"

“Oh don’t look so surprised.”

Hinata jumps a foot. “GAH! Tsukishima!" Wh-what are you still doing here?” He raises a tremulous hand to his chest, confirming for himself that, yes, he is still alive. 

“Locking up.” He says, pulling a hand from his pocket and tossing Hinata the keys. “But now you are. I’m sick of waiting for you two imbeciles.” He turns, sliding his headphones into place and leaving his shocked little teammate behind, clutching the keys in one hand and his heart in the other.

 

* * *

 

The crunch of sneakers on asphalt interrupts Kageyama's trance, arms folded and bouncing his foot as he leans against the fence hear the bikes. His head shoots up but his face immediately falls.

"Why are you still--"

"I gave him the keys." Tsukishima says as he strolls by with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Use that information however you want."

Kageyama's eyes lift anxiously to the club room and he swallows, his breath visible in the chilly air as he stares up at the solitary light shining in the dark from the club room window. He hitches his bag up his shoulder and turns on his heel, muttering, "Go fuck yourself, Tsukishima." as he shoves hastily past the snickering blond and out the gate.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way to go, Tobio. You hug a guy and then you don't even wait to walk home with him. The shit are you thinking?
> 
> No really. Wtf are you thinking?
> 
> @K-a-r-o-1221 pummeled me into the GROUND with THIS FUCKING PERFECT ARTWORK of the [nail file scene!!](http://k-a-r-o-1221.tumblr.com/post/157987129003/kageyama-doing-his-nails-%E3%83%8E-%E3%83%8E-kageyama-doing) Did I mention how perfect it is? I'm never going to get over this. I don't WANT to get over this *screams into the heavens*


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHOO CHOO ALL ABOARD THE TROPE TRAIN, NEXT STOP CLICHE CITY

_“I mean, honestly, you could probably do anything to me…”_

Kageyama huffs out an annoyed breath and jams a hoodie into the duffle bag on his bed. He yanks it back out when he realizes he needs to wear it and tugs it on, and instead snatches the stack of video games off his comforter and shoves them in to the bag with the same careless abandon before zipping it aggressively.

_“You could do anything to me, Kageyama.”_

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, shaking his head sharply and straightening up to look around his room. He glances at the clock.

_“Kageyama…please…you can do anything to me…”_

He squeezes his eyes shut.

“ _Anything.”_

His eyes fly open and he smacks the bag off his bed with a low growl and takes its place, sinking down onto the mattress and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to stuff back into himself the image of the tiny redhead stretched beneath him, arms draped above his head with wide, imploring eyes, submissive, yet still wielding ultimate control over the boy above him.

He’s been replaying Hinata’s words for days; the meaning having evolved and devolved and picked him apart as he over analyzed and over indulged even though he knows damn well that Hinata hadn’t meant it like…like _that._

But it wasn’t just those words that have kept his rapt attention for the days since their last real interaction, it was how open and willing Hinata had been to letting Kageyama touch him in a way that Kageyama found to be…well, quite intimate, actually. Paired with Kageyama’s natural inclination to touch the idiot is typically some form of self-conscious recoil or hand smack on Hinata’s part – aside from their moment in the tent when they were both half asleep. Well. Hinata _did_ freak out, eventually.

He had hardly expected the boy to actually allow him to file his nails; Hinata had been shaking like a leaf, sure, but he still sat through the whole ordeal.

 _‘Ordeal,’ huh?_ Kageyama thinks. _Funny choice of words._ _Is that all it is? Some temporary obstacle? Just some dumb desires of a stupid teenage boy with a stupid crush on his stupid friend?_

_“You could do anything to me.”_

_No._ _No it isn’t._

He sighs.

And, fuck, if he were to look up the word ‘kissable’ in any dictionary, there would be a picture of Hinata’s stupid fucking face.

Do dictionaries even have pictures? Why is that a thing people say?

But those lips. Those fucking lips had him mesmerized and it took everything he had inside him to not just close the gap between them; to taste those perfectly pinked, silken lips that the dumbass is constantly chewing on to turn them an even more gorgeous shade of red, and _wet_. The way he had dragged that plush bottom one through his teeth while Kageyama’s heart was crumbling in his attempt to tell Hinata to stay the hell away from him.

Ha – he sure fucked that up beautifully.

Because kissing Hinata…fucking _kissing_ Hinata…

The very concept threatened to burn him alive from the inside out. It was the closest thing he could compare to what he imagined would be a religious experience. Tragically, one he was fated never to know, but he knew that nothing in his life would ever come close to the level of perfection as brushing his own lips against those.

He ached to trace the flawless bow of his upper lip with his finger, with his tongue, to nip at the pillowy bottom one softly with his teeth. To know for certain just how compatible – how made for each other they have always been through sweet, delicate, warm pressure; through quiet sighs and trembling fingers. To know that they would find rhythm easily, together, because it’s what they’ve always done.

They simply don’t know how else to _be_.

Kissing Hinata…just once…

He spent so much time thinking about it that he could swear that it was already a memory. One he could no longer taste or feel, but one he still clung to like he would cease to exist without it.

Fuck. He’s _way_ too young to be dealing with this type of shit. Speaking of which…

_“You could do anything to me.”_

Etch those words into his fucking tombstone.

However, aside from debasing his friend’s innocent – yet undeniably disturbing – confession, which he knew could be chalked up to Hinata’s inability to think for a goddamn second before blurting out literally anything, and how he’s been dreaming in vivid detail about the other pressing against him, moaning into his mouth while Kageyama kissed away all the pain he had ever caused, murmuring preemptive apologies against his skin for whatever stupid shit Hinata had alluded to in the future; aside from all that, Kageyama found himself with quite a lot to think about since he hugged the squirmy idiot, for whatever fucking reason. Like, yeah, he’s in love with him, and he hasn’t been making the wisest decisions lately, but still. Unacceptable, Tobio.

Unacceptable.

But what happened the morning after had shined just the smallest glimmer of hope on what was turning into an utterly hopeless situation, and it’s _that_ strange encounter that has been battling for dominance in his exhausted mind.

After cowardly absconding beneath the mocking gaze of that lanky blond twat of a teammate, he had spent the night wracking his brain for an explanation as to why he didn’t wait for Hinata outside the clubroom after effectively smashing the other forcibly into his body. But he found himself pacing near the gate the next morning after another virtually sleepless night, terrified, with no excuse, no reason for the abrupt departure when,

_“Hey…Kageyama?”_

An angel was sent from above.

He started, whipping around to face the small voice. Wild, tired eyes darted around the dim light of morning before resting on a timid, downturned face. _“Yuu?”_

 _“Yeah…hey.”_ The first year made a slow approach, scuffing his feet against the gravelly pavement. He licked his lips nervously, keeping his eyes to the side when he spoke again. _“Didn’t mean to startle you…is Hinata here yet?”_

 _“Um…no, not yet.”_ Kageyama answered, visually sweeping the area for confirmation. _“Yeah. No.”_

 _“Alright…”_ Yuu fidgeted, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets.

Something seemed…off.

Kageyama frowned. _“Everything alright?”_

Yuu breathed out a long, slow breath, watching it mist in the chilly air before turning towards Kageyama, serious, stoic. _“Can I talk to you?”_

Yuu had nodded towards the side of the gym and Kageyama followed, casting once last look at the gate before they turned the shadowed corner.

And it was there, after the first year had dropped his bag on the ground and his face into his trembling hands, that Kageyama listened silently to every frantic, stuttered word that tumbled out of his teammate. He listened, and listened, eyes widening and pulse climbing with every word.  

And finally, after the sun had risen and the sweet sounds of volleyballs smacking against palms rang through the gymnasium walls, Yuu had looked up at him, face scarlet and chest heaving with the weight of his confession.

Kageyama blinked; his head was spinning and he felt like he had to sit down and process everything he just heard. He already knew most of it, he came to realize. It was kind of obvious in that "hind-sight is 20-20" sort of way, but to hear it all blurted at him so fiercely and…and _honestly…_ it was a little overwhelming. But, unfortunately, the shy first year was staring at him with a look of desperation and awaiting an answer, and the universe was not about to grant the shocked setter the luxury of a couple seconds to think about the implications of everything that was just professed.

So, Kageyama had said, in return, with a tightening chest and having given the situation minimal thought,

_“I…yes. Yeah. I’ll…okay. Yes.”_

And it was there, in the shadow of the gymnasium in the early morning, that Kageyama experienced his second hug in less than a ten-hour span.

But it wasn’t until the first year had scampered off, beaming, that Kageyama wondered what the hell he had just agreed to.

Something that would make things…better, he thought.

And that’s what he’s thinking now. What he’s _telling_ himself now as he stares at the clock. He’s _insisting_ on it, really. Because there’s really no going back. It’s going to be okay, right? Things might be a little awkward for a few days but ultimately…

It’s what he needs.

The perfect distraction.

The first step in breaking it off with the guy he’s madly in love with.

He hangs his head, sinking further into the bed.

He’s going to throw up.

But first…

“ _KAA-GEEY-AA-MAA_!”

Is the enthusiastic, measured warning Kageyama receives, each syllable resounding with a loping bound up the stairs before Hinata hurls himself against his bedroom door, bursting in with a flurry like a noisy russet hurricane.

"Dumbass." Kageyama half-heartedly scolds with a heavy sigh, like he always does. “Don’t just barge into my room.” He raises his eyes to the other as he falters in his explosion of an entrance – a thing _he_ always does.

A thing so detestably adorable it takes all of Kageyama’s willpower not to grin like the simple-minded moron that he is and gather the dumbass into his arms every single time.

This thing, the idiot always does – blasts in and immediately freezes, seemingly struck with the sudden and overwhelming understanding of where he is, like he hadn’t considered the consequences of unexpectedly throwing open the door of a teenage boy’s room until he’s five feet beyond the threshold.

Like he momentarily forgot that he has a crush on said teenage boy.

Predictably, honey-brown eyes get massive, panicky, darting madly around the bedroom as he shrinks meekly into himself, like he expects the walls to reach out and strike him. Like a cat that dashes into a room, pupils dilating in alarm and lithe muscles coiling taut beneath its skin in preparation to spring into a hasty retreat.

But his ability to recover quickly isn’t bound solely to the volleyball court, and Hinata shakes himself, finding his confidence and carrying on with his systematic invasion of privacy as if his weird behavior weren’t painfully noticeable.

What an idiot.

This is how Hinata has insisted on announcing himself ever since last year, when Kageyama’s mother just started letting the little menace inside without bothering to alert Kageyama, and he’s not likely to stop anytime soon. His mom seems to hold a special place in her heart for the boy, and she expresses this, much to Kageyama’s dismay, by never shutting the hell up about how cute he is.

 _Must run in the family._ He thinks, eyeing the miniature cyclone as it whirls over to his bookcase, running its little fingers over the spines in the loudest and most obnoxious way possible.

“You knew I was coming.” Hinata says absently, like he hadn’t just scared the shit out of himself, slipping a volleyball book off the shelf that he’s already looked at a thousand times. He tosses it onto Kageyama’s neatly made bed without so much as a glance at the cover. “ _Uwaah!_ It’s always so clean in here!” He says in awe, plopping into Kageyama’s desk chair and kicking himself into a wild spin.

Kageyama snatches the book off the comforter, sparing a glare as he sticks it back where it belongs while Hinata flails his arms out to stop the spinning, knocking everything off Kageyama’s desk in the process.

“It isn’t clean anymore!” He growls, watching Hinata dizzily pry open one of the desk drawers. “What are you even doing!?”

“Looking for a pen!” Hinata says exitedly, rummaging without a care in the world or even the slightest inkling of a sense of privacy.

“Okay, enough!” Kageyama crosses the room in two quick steps, simultaneously slamming the drawer and shoving Hinata off the chair with his elbow.

Hinata topples to the floor with a clipped grunt. “Yeah.” He grumbles with his cheek against the carpet. “Wouldn’t want to mess up this…this sterile hospital room!” He pouts and pulls himself into a sitting position.

“Can we go?” Kageyama grabs his duffle and sleeping bag, ignoring the miffed little face frowning up at him.

“I just wanted to sign Nishinoya’s card.” Hinata mumbles, brushing himself off dramatically as he rises to his feet. He pulls a piece of folded orange construction paper out of his pocket and presents it proudly to Kageyama.

 _Fucking. Cute._ Kageyama can’t help but think as he looks down at the sketched volleyball wearing what looks to be a brown and blond wig beneath ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’ in giant bubble letters. “What the fuck is that?” He asks, fiercly holding back a smile.

“It’s Nishinoya if he was a volleyball! O-obviously…” Hinata finishes with an embarrassed murmur, an adorable blush creeping across his cheeks as he folds it back up and slips it back into his back pocket, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“What are you, five?”

Hinata presses his mouth into a hard line and folds his arms across his chest.

 _Goddammit._ Kageyama sighs and drops his shoulders. “Um...can I sign it, too?” He asks, immediately mortified and hoping that the heat prickling up his neck isn’t visible.

Hinata’s head snaps up, eyes shining with happiness. “Please!”

“I have a pen in my bag. We can sign it in the car.” Kageyama replies, face on fire as he turns to leave. He looks back to oust Hinata from the room but the dumbass is openly staring at his bed, chewing on his lip with a far-off look in his eyes.

Those words skip intrusively though his mind again – big, innocent eyes, dark with lust, gazing longingly up at him and _“You could do_ anything _to me, Kageyama...”_

 _Dear god give me a break._ Kageyama thinks, forcing an eye-roll, because if he doesn’t, he runs the risk of slamming the door and throwing the small body to the mattress. “Let’s go, dumbass.” He says hurriedly, casually stepping through the door in a way he hopes doesn’t look like an evasive maneuver.

Kageyama breathes a mental sigh of relief when he hears graceful, elephant-like stomps following him down the stairs.

“You’ve never drawn me anything.” Kageyama mutters, only half-teasing, breaking the silence as they sit side-by-side tying their shoes.

What? He’s not allowed to be jealous?

“’What the fuck is that?’” Hinata mocks in his deepest voice, which is not deep at all and is endearing as hell.

“I wouldn’t make fun of it.” Kageyama grumbles as he stands, knocked only a little off-kilter by the rare occurrence of hearing the word ‘fuck’ come out of that sweet little mouth. So he shoves Hinata’s head because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Am I honestly supposed to believe that?” Hinata asks, rubbing the back of his head.

Kageyama considers this for a moment, because, yeah, Hinata is probably right. Except no, actually, he’s not. And Kageyama says as much after a slight hesitation. “No I…really don’t think I would.”

Hinata keeps his face turned away as he stands and reaches for the doorknob, but Kageyama can see the tips of his ears almost match the color of his burgundy hoodie. “I’ll try to keep that in mind, then.” He says quietly as they step through the door. “But in case you haven’t noticed, my skills lie elsewhere.”

“Skills?” Kageyama’s brows pinch while they make their way down the driveway. “Where? When?”

Hinata balks, spinning around to face him. “Mean!”

“No really. When do we get to see these _skills_?”

“Fine then! See if I ever hit your tosses again!”

“Oh, so when you say _your_ skills, what you really mean are _my_ —.” Kageyama easily dodges what would have been a direct kick to his shin. He greets Hinata’s dad and throws his stuff into the trunk before sliding into the back seat.

 

 

 

Alright, so, Hinata knows that Kageyama has been avoiding him. Well, _was_ avoiding him, anyway.

What with not waiting to walk home together after the most startling hug in history, mumbling an excuse about having to study during lunch (Kageyama? Studying? Please.), stumbling into practice just barely on time and then curiously spending _all_ his time with Yuu during their water breaks and hanging back with him when practice comes to an end.

Not that Hinata is concerned or…or… _jealous_ or anything.

Honestly, though, he was _so_ relieved when he came out of the clubroom and found that Kageyama decided not to wait for him that night; grateful to have a quiet ride home to process the bizarre evening. He found himself grinning from ear to ear on more than one occasion – having Kageyama catch him doing that would have been _mortifying._

And he came to two very obvious conclusions on his solitary ride home: 1) Kageyama is _so_ weird (but he already knew that), and 2) Kageyama is definitely embarrassed by what he did. The latter only confirmed by the three days of conspicuous avoidance.

But it was okay. It was okay because _Kageyama had_ hugged _him (!!!)._ And it was quite possibly enough to sustain Hinata’s aching heart for the rest of his life.

Even though, now, he gets to live the rest of that life miserably knowing exactly what’s missing from it, and chasing the feeling of being in Kageyama’s arms until the day he dies.

_Stupid Kageyama._

But it was enough for him not to be worried about his friend’s cold behavior...initially. Of _course,_ Kageyama would be embarrassed – Hinata would be concerned if he _wasn’t_. Well, maybe not _concerned_ , but… he doesn’t know what he would be if Kageyama acted like nothing happened.

So, Hinata came to a third, not-so-obvious conclusion – the hug _meant_ something.

He doesn’t know what, and he doesn’t dare think that it could mean that Kageyama has actual _feelings_ for him. Please. It was just a hug, and Hinata hugs people all the time who he doesn't have any special feelings for.

Yeah, but this was _Kageyama. M_ aybe it was meant as an expression of guilt, maybe it meant that Kageyama was grateful for having been forgiven (even though there was nothing to forgive him for, obviously), or maybe it just meant that he was trying to act like a normal person – a _friend_ even.

And that – _that_ is _huge._

 _If_ that’s what it meant, anyway.

 _Who CARES what it meant! He_ hugged _me! ME!_

Whatever it could have been, Hinata knew it had been difficult for the boy, so he was okay with letting Kageyama _be_ Kageyama for the next couple days.

And the thing with Yuu, well…

 _That_ he hasn’t quite figured out, yet. He knew that Kageyama had been giving the first-year volleyball tips these past few weeks; teaching him serving and setting techniques, but it sort of seemed like he had been following Kageyama around like a lost puppy the days after their theatrics in the clubroom. And the weirdest thing about it was that Kageyama didn’t seem to mind – nothing like how it used to be with the two of them, how grumpy Kageyama would get in the beginning when Hinata would beg for tosses and pointers and _attention._

Yeah, Kageyama has gone through somewhat of a transformation in the last two years, but he’s still _Kageyama._ The setter even went so far as too seek Yuu out himself on several occasions, and then they would be all hushed voices and furtive glances towards the other members of the team. He couldn’t help but notice the way Kageyama’s eyes would find the younger boy on the court – watchful and…and what? There was something in the setter’s expression that Hinata had never seen before. 

Did it just mean that Kageyama had made another friend? Well, shit – Hinata _had_ to be proud of him for that.

But it sort of hurt…sort of, like, a lot.

This development was so sudden, so new…and Hinata found himself afraid of being…well…replaced.

Would it really be that easy?

But to Hinata’s immense relief, at the end of practice Friday evening Kageyama wordlessly fell into step beside him as they made their way back to the clubroom after another full day of barely even looking his way.

 _“Did Kageyama make a new friend?”_ Hinata whispered through forced, stiff laughter, gesturing with a nod of his head toward the first year several feet behind them.

_“Shut up, dumbass.”_

_“No really,”_ Hinata tapped his fingers together nervously as they walked. _“He seems to have taken quite a liking to you.”_ He was going for genuine enthusiasm, but he’s sure it just ended up sounding bitter.

Kageyama snorted at that. Or laughed. Or…coughed?

He was happy for his friend. Really! Hinata didn’t honestly expect to be Kageyama’s only close friend throughout all of high school. But still…

 _Just don’t forget about me._ He thought sadly, his shoulders dropping.

But even if he was forgotten about, he would get past it! Right? Of course he would! He’s Hinata Shouyou – strong, resilient, tenacious (whatever the hell that means. He heard Kuroo say it once and it sounded really cool). And loving Kageyama from afar wouldn’t be that different from loving him in secret, right? It wasn’t like he wouldn’t get to _see_ him anymore; they would still be teammates, maybe they’d still eat lunch together occasionally, or maybe if he was _really_ lucky Yuu and Kageyama would invite him to tag along all third-wheel-like during some post-practice hangout or something. Maybe the crushing loneliness wouldn’t be so bad and—

 _“I’m being replaced, aren’t I?”_ He blurted once they reached the clubroom. He couldn’t help it.

Kageyama rounded on him with wide, startled eyes. “ _What!?_ ”

“ _I’m…you—_ “ But the setter grabbed Hinata’s elbow, yanking him out of the doorway and off to the side to allow their teammates past them, earning them quite an interested look from Nishinoya before the libero followed the rest of the team inside.

“ _That,_ ” Kageyama hissed, shoving Hinata in the chest once they were alone. “ _Is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said._ ”

Hinata lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes. “ _It’s not dumb! You’ve been all—“_

“ _That won’t_ ever _happen, dumbass.”_  

" _But what about_ \--"

_"Won't. Happen."_

And just then Hinata remembered he sometimes has a tendency to blow things a little out of proportion.

Occasionally.

He's such an idiot.

“ _He just…he needs help with something._ ” Kageyama continued before looking away.  _"I-it's nothing."_

And if Hinata _wasn’t_ the biggest idiot in the world, he would swear that a look of anguish crossed the setter’s face.

But there was no trace of misery when their eyes met again, and Hinata knew he had imagined it.

 _“Okay?”_ Kageyama pressed quietly.

Hinata puffed out his cheeks before blowing out a slow breath. _"Well..."_ He started, frowning at his feet, but he could only keep it up for a second and snapped his head up. “ _Okay_!” He smiled broadly, chest swelling with affection at the look of genuine worry in Kageyama’s searching eyes. _“I was just kidding, anyway!”_ He scoffed, shouldering his way past the setter.

 _"You were not!”_ Kageyama growled after him as he scampered into the clubroom with a giggle.

They all emerged into the street together that night, talking about Noya’s party the next day and congratulating him on passing his driver’s test, and just before Hinata split off to pedal home, Kageyama grabbed his sleeve.

 _“Hey…can you give me a ride to the party tomorrow?”_ He asked, whispering for some reason and not meeting Hinata’s eyes, rather glancing back towards the others nervously.

 _“Y-yeah…yeah!”_ Hinata answered, caught a little off guard. _“Um, five o’clock?”_

 _“Sure. Um…thanks.”_ Kageyama said abruptly turning and jogging back to the group.

Hinata blinked. _He’s so weird._ He thought, hopping on his bike and smiling uncontrollably.

He had absolutely nothing to worry about.

Right?

Right.

But something was still bothering him, he realized on his ride. Something…

_Something…_

Well whatever, because here they are now, back to normal and bickering about the cleanliness of Hinata’s bedroom after Hinata made another jab about Kageyama’s being rigidly organized, like a serial killer lived there or something, and Hinata couldn’t be more thrilled – until Hinata’s dad agrees that, yeah, maybe Shouyou _should_ clean his room more often and then promptly kicks the obnoxious duo from his car in Tanaka’s driveway.

“See? Even your dad thinks you’re disgusting.” Kageyama goads, grabbing their things out of the trunk and shoving Hinata’s into his chest.

Hinata whacks him with his grocery bag of s’mores materials. “He just wanted you to shut up!”

“Your dad thinks I’m great.”

“Pfft! He hates you! He thinks you’re—ah-AHH-MM!”

Hinata tries not to moan embarrassingly when fingers wind tightly into his hair.

“Hey guys!” Nishinoya calls from the porch as Kageyama drags Hinata by red locks towards the house. “Drop your stuff in the living room. Saeko’s being a bossy bitch, so watch out.” He finishes with a stage-whisper while Hinata and Kageyama make their way inside.

“You watch your fucking mouth!” Saeko yells from the kitchen.

“Not in front of the children!” Nishinoya says, scandalized and placing a hand over his heart; he swings around the doorway and out of sight. “But I’ll be all yours come tonight, just be patient my sweet—GAH!” The unmistakable sound of an ass-slap rings through the house and Kageyama and Hinata look at each other.

Noya emerges from the kitchen rubbing his butt. “Foreplay.” He grins and elbows Kageyama in the stomach. “Right? Hey, you can put the s’mores stuff in the kitchen for now.” He says to Hinata before turning back to the other. “Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are helping Tanaka set up the video game stuff in the sunroom over this way.”

“Shouyou!” Saeko greets when Hinata enters the large, brightly lit kitchen; she’s dumping ice into a silver bucket next to possibly the most alcohol Hinata has ever seen in his young life combined. His parents have a liquor cabinet, but this…this is like an entire bar.

“Oh!” Saeko laughs at Hinata’s wide-eyed awe. “I’m having some friends over, too. But if you promise to control yourself, you’re more than welcome to help yourself.”

Hinata gulps.

“Or not.” Saeko laughs, taking the bag of treats from Hinata and ruffling his hair. “Ugh! You’re so cute!”

“Where is everyone?” Hinata asks, running his hands through his messy hair as Kageyama wanders in looking for some batteries. He does a double-take at the array of booze on display.

“Probably getting here soon. Yachi and Yuu are outside getting firewood before it gets too dark.”

“I can help with that!” Hinata offers happily. He feels Kageyama’s eyes shift to him while he rifles through a drawer.

Hinata tugs the hood of his sweatshirt up as he steps out the sliding-glass door and onto the deck. It isn’t cold, exactly, but the way Kageyama was just looking at him made his face heat up and he feels a little safer this way.

“Yachiiii!” He squeals, crossing the yard and bounding up to the small blonde as she drops her arm-load of wood near the fire pit. “Wow, you guys already found a lot. Where’s Yuu?”

“Playing lumberjack.” Yachi says with a hard roll of her eyes. “Come on.”

Hinata follows the blonde into a small wooded area to find Yuu throwing himself against a small, though very resilient dead tree.

“Get it, Yuu! Fight!” Hinata cheers, _‘You little usurping piece of shit.’_ He wants to add, but doesn’t. He startles the shit out of the first year, pleased with himself and forcing down his simmering resentment.

Wow, alright. Maybe things are not so, ‘okay’.

_Pfft- what’s so great about this guy?_

“H-Hinata!” He squeaks, halting in the middle of a kick. “Hinata.” He repeats in a slightly deeper voice. “Hello.”

“Need help?” Hinata asks, licking his lips and rolling up his sleeves. _He’s sort of cute…I guess._

“Um…no. I was just about to give up—“

“Don’t be silly.” Hinata says, squaring himself in front of the tree and flipping off his hood. “Lift me up. Maybe I’ll weaken it if I climb it.” _Not nearly cute enough for Kageyama._

“N-no, that’s alright.”

“We aren’t going to lose to a tree, now come on!” _Well,_ no one _is cute enough for Kageyama…_

Yuu shoots a look at Yachi, who is trying _super_ hard to hide a wide smile behind her fingers. “Go ahead, Yuu.” She says, choking back a laugh.

“Um…alright. What should I do?” He asks nervously, approaching Hinata.

“What do you mean? Just pick me up!” _Not that Kageyama would be hanging out with him because of_ that _, right?_

“Like…how?” He asks again, averting his eyes and fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie.

“Oh my god.” Hinata rolls his eyes. “Come here and bend down.” _Right!?_

Yuu looks like he’s about to throw up, but does what Hinata demands anyway and kneels in front of him.

“Right. Ah—I mean, hold still.” Hinata says, walking behind the first year and climbing onto his shoulders. “Okay, up!”

“Are you sure about this!?” Yuu asks, voice cracking, looking side to side at Hinata’s legs draped over his shoulders.

“Give me your hands, I don’t want to fall.”

“This is going on Instagram.” Yachi says, pulling out her phone.

“Don’t you dare!” Yuu hisses, grasping Hinata’s hands as he rises carefully to his feet.

“Okay, get closer to the tree.” Hinata instructs. “Can I stand on you?”

“Ah—um—“

Without waiting for an affirmative response, Hinata lets go of Yuu’s sweaty hands and grabs the tree for support, shakily placing one foot onto the larger boy’s shoulder and then the other. He suppresses the urge to stomp all over him.

“You’d make a great cheerleader.” Yachi teases.

“What exactly are you implying, Yachi?”

Yuu whimpers, grabbing in panic at Hinata’s feet as the redhead wobbles.

“I’m going to get that branch.” Hinata says. “Let go of my feet.”

“Please be careful.” Yuu whines as Hinata’s weight leaves his shoulders.

Hinata grips the weak wood and sticks his sneakered feet against the trunk, scrambling and pulling himself up a few inches and kicking off bark in the process. “Okay.” He says. “Now push!”

“Push what!?” Yuu asks.

 _GOD he’s stupid._ “The tree! My weight should make it easier to knock down!”

“How does that make sense!?”

“Just do it!”

“You’ll fall with it!”

“I’m going to get Kageyama.” Yachi says with a sigh. “Hinata, you’re going to kill yourself.”

“Wait, Yachi!” Yuu hisses. But she doesn’t.

“What, you don’t want your boyfriend to see this?” Hinata grumbles inaudibly at the crumbling bark.

“What did you say!?”

 _Maybe that wasn’t as inaudible as he thought. “_ Nothing!” He amends quickly.

 _Maybe I shouldn’t be so upset_ _._ Hinata thinks. _Maybe I’m being unfair._

“Hinata! You’re going to get hurt! Come down!”

“Are you questioning me, Yuu!?”

“No! I—“

“Do it!”

Yuu looks helplessly towards the empty backyard and then back up at Hinata. “You promise you’re not going to get hurt?”

“Yes! I’m spry!” _Maybe if I die under your watch, Kageyama will never speak to you again._ _Screw being fair._

Yuu drops his eyes to the trunk in front of him and sighs loudly before pressing his hands to it.

“Is that all you got?” Hinata wiggles, shaking the tree. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“I’m trying!” The first-year cries, shoving his shoulder against the wood. “It’s not—“

A loud splintering sound makes them both jump, and Hinata shoots a look back down at the other. “More! Go go!”

Yuu grits his teeth and pushes with all his strength, and the tree begins to bend with pops and splintering cracks.

And, yeah, Hinata is spry but he is also stupid. Because as he tries to leap off with impressive flare, his sleeve catches on a branch, changing the direction of the tree just enough to ensure that it falls right on top of him.

He hits the ground with a yelp of surprise and covers his head with his arms as the dying wood crashes over him.

“HINATA! Oh god, Hinata!” Yuu screams, falling to his knees and shoving the tree off his totally deceased teammate. “Please don’t die oh my god oh my god don’t die I’m so sorry I’m so sorry—” He babbles, grabbing Hinata by the shoulders to cradle his lifeless body (and, like, three pounds of twigs and dried leaves) against his chest. “No no no!!”

“Um. Yuu.” Hinata says, body limp and voice muffled against the younger boy’s sweatshirt.

“What the hell is going on!?” Kageyama grumbles, approaching the dramatic scene with Yachi trailing behind. He freezes, eyes round with fear. “Wait. What _is_ going on?

“Call an ambulance!” Yuu wails with tears beginning to form. “H-he’s— Kageyama—” Yuu hiccups. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think—“

“Yuu, stop it!” Hinata squirms in the hysterical boy’s arms as Kageyama kneels beside them. “I’m okay. Calm down.”

Yuu thrusts Hinata away from him at arm’s length. “Hinata!” He cries before crushing him back into his chest. “I’m sorry! I’ll never hurt you again!” Then he stills, looks wide-eyed at a very amused Kageyama, and shoves the small, uninjured body at the setter. “Here!” He squeaks before jumping to his feet.

 Hinata just lets himself flop like a ragdoll into Kageyama’s lap with a low groan before sitting up and shaking the leaves from his hair.

“So…what happened?” Kageyama asks again, eyes alight with silent laughter, picking a stray leaf from hilariously wild locks. Hinata wrinkles his nose and shimmies away from Kageyama to roll up the leg of his jeans and inspect a bruise forming on his knee.

“That tree fell on him!” Yuu says, blushed and shaking. “H-he climbed it, and I pushed it, and then—“

Kageyama raises his eyes to the fallen ‘tree’. “You mean that…oversized _stick_ , Yuu?”

“Um…y-yes?”

“Are you really okay, Hinata?” Yachi asks, warily.

“Of course I am! Ugh—will you stop it!?” Hinata bristles, smacking Kageyama’s hand away from picking another leaf out of his hair. “Ow…” His face pinches and he pushes up his sleeve, the dark red fabric of his sweatshirt bunching at his upper arm to uncover a scrape on his elbow

Kageyama reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fist-full of band-aids.

Hinata eyes him in judgement and snorts. “Do you seriously just carry those around with you?”

“Knowing you, I had to come out here prepared.”

Puzzled, and a little choked up, Hinata reaches towards the band-aids but Kageama shakes his head, and pointedly hands them to Yuu.

“You’re the one who hurt him, you do it.” He says, turning with a smirk.

“Huh!?” Yuu asks intelligently.

“You have to take care of your teammate.” Kageyama says mockingly with a sneer. “You almost killed him. It’s the least you can do.”

Hinata arches a brow as Yuu looks from his face to the band-aids and back again. _What the HELL is going on with these two!?_

Yuu and Kageyama stare at each other, exchanging some secret, silent communication that makes Hinata’s chest tighten and skin crawl with unease. “Um…a-alright.” The youngest finally relents, his face apple-red as he takes a few of the band-aids cautiously.

Hinata is seething with curiosity about what is truly taking place – not to mention growing more and more uncomfortable; he feels like he missed something, and the atmosphere between his two teammates is incredibly puzzling. It seems…ah…yeah, he has no idea.

Yuu kneels again beneath Kageyama’s sharp gaze, hands clearly trembling as he struggles to peel back the paper on one of the bandages. Hinata looks at Kageyama questioningly, and blue and brown eyes meet – blue stray first.

The first-year finally succeeds in freeing the band-aid from the wrapper, but now comes the difficult task of physically placing it on Hinata’s body.

“Uh…” Yuu licks his lips, eyes shifting everywhere except Hinata’s confused face. “Where…um…c-can you, um…your arm…”

Hinata can’t help but giggle through his own feelings of discomfort at the poor kid’s nervousness – he’s never known what it’s like to have someone be afraid of him. If that’s what you can even call it.

Is it bad that he sort of likes it?

Hinata turns slightly and straightens his arm, letting quivering fingers stick a band-aid lopsided over the tiniest of cuts.

“Okay, now…oh…oh no.” Yuu swallows nervously. “This one looks bad…you’re bleeding…” Yuu says, looking down at Hinata’s knee. “K-Kageyama, do you have…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Kageyama blurts, springing forward to push the first-year out of the way and sit cross-legged in front of Hinata. “Just let me do it. You’re going to have a stroke.”

Hinata snickers. Then stiffens. “Are you serious?”

“Quiet, you.”

And instead of inching closer to Hinata, Kageyama grabs his calf and drags him forward over the leaves, draping Hinata’s leg over his own knee. His heart kicks into overdrive, and he can feel the painful throb of his overactive pulse beneath his torn skin. He’s vaguely aware of the way Yuu scampers off back towards the house, but really his attention is fixated on the boy directly in front of him.

Obviously.

 _He sure is consistent._ Hinata thinks, recalling being towed across the floor of the clubroom on his knees. His breath catches at the feeling of Kageyama’s warm fingers on his cool, bare skin, but he holds himself together.

Barely.

“I could just do that myself, you know, Kage-mama.” Hinata mumbles, licking his dry lips.

Kageyama ignores him and examines the scrape, eyes flickering up almost shyly before immediately darting away again. “Do you…is it okay if…um” Kageyama gestures at the blood that has trickled down Hinata’s shin. “With my sleeve?

Hinata’s eyelids flutter in surprise. “Ah—um…n-no I don’t mind! But…isn’t that kind of—“

Kageyama tugs down the cuff on the arm of his hoodie, folding it over his hand and pressing it against Hinata’s skin below the injury before the boy can breathe out the word ‘gross.’

Hinata winces, then relaxes. Sort of.

“Hurt?” Kageyama asks softly.

“No…but now my blood is all over you.” He replies, gaze glued to the place where their legs are touching.

“Dumbass.” Kageyama says with a small frown, carefully dabbing at the skin. “I don’t care.”

Silence blankets their little area while Kageyama continues his work diligently, tenderly, careful not to touch the open wound directly.

And Hinata can’t breathe.

Desperate to appear as though he isn’t drowning in his affection for the boy sitting with him among the dirt and leaves, with his leg slung over the other's, Hinata focuses on measuring his breathing, forcing air into his tight chest and then out again quietly, and not letting it rattle out in the full-body gasps he that threaten to wrack his tiny frame; to not gulp in chilly air at the ebb and flow of the deep longing looking to claw its way out of him. This is the second time in a week he has found himself in this type of situation – though the word ‘escalation’ comes to mind – so, naturally, he blurts out,

“Why do you keep doing stuff like this!?”   

“Stuff like what?” Kageyama asks, shaking his hand free of the now-bloody sleeve and pushing it up his forearm. His gaze seems to crawl slowly up Hinata’s leg before snapping up to his face.

Hinata opens his mouth to answer, but doesn’t.

It feels like another couple of hours before Kageyama finally pulls his eyes away from Hinata’s to peel the back off the second bandage, and warm fingers press back into his calf, thumbs gliding gently over shiny adhesive and continuing to brush over smooth skin, eliciting a prickle of goosebumps in their wake. Rough pads of gentle digits trail along the edge of the band-aid so slowly, and Hinata’s heart flutters at the sensation. The light, feathery quality to Kageyama’s touch makes his body ache and skin positively burn beneath those calloused fingers.

He’s not sure what he’s done in his life to deserve such heinous torture.

Kageyama’s fingers still and Hinata can’t move; all he can do is watch Kageyama’s dark, unwavering gaze and the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

And if Hinata weren’t so hyper-aware of the soft drag of fingers on the back of his leg, he may not have noticed – but he _is_ and he _does_. He notices the way those long fingers extend, flatten, really, the tips grazing so delicately up to the very bottom of the back of his thigh. His stomach flips.

And he can’t manage to conceal a shiver.

But then the warmth is gone. And Kageyama is stalking back to the house, yanking his sleeve back down and balling his fist at his side.

Hinata blinks after him with heat his in cheeks, small chest rising and falling rapidly as his eyes widen to saucers.

“Wow…”

Hinata startles violently, having completely forgotten that Yachi has been there the entire time. His eyes flick to the tiny blonde and her face is as red as his probably is. She’s fiddling with the sleeve of her jacket, watching Kageyama’s back as he crosses the lawn. She swallows awkwardly, her head turning slowly to the boy on the ground before asking,

“Should I have seen that?”

“What—“ Hinata rasps, voice like sandpaper in his throat. “What do you mean?”

“Just…wow. I’ve never…wow.” She drags her bottom lip through her teeth.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Nothing.” She says, pressing her palms to her hot cheeks before extending a hand towards him. “Let’s hurry, it’s gonna be dark soon. We definitely need more. Wood. I mean. We need…more. Um. More firewood.”

Hinata nods slowly, letting Yachi pull him to his feet. “Yeah.” He says in a daze. “We definitely need…more.”

* * *

 

The house had filled considerably in the short while he had been outside, and Hinata slips quietly back into the warm kitchen. The crisp scent of the outside air mingles with the sharp aroma of liquor and as he scans the crowded room for Kageyama out of habit, and the hum of cheery voices and laughter serves to somewhat calm his frazzled nerves. It isn't much of a surprise that Hinata doesn't recognize many of the faces - many of which are female, what with some being Saeko's guests and Nishinoya not only being a social butterfly, but also the biggest flirt that Hinata has ever known. He brightens at the high spirits around him and finds himself grinning, just as his eyes rest on a familiar form stooping in front of the fridge and loading beer onto a shelf from a small case on the floor.

“Suga!” Hinata chirps, weaving through bodies to throw himself at his former teammate. The young man stands, turning just in time to catch Hinata and pull him into a crushing hug against his chest as he staggers back into the shelves of the refrigerator.

“Hinata!” Suga laughs. “You’ve gotten taller!”

“ _Wahh_! It’s been so long!” The redhead says, tightening his hold. “How are you? What’s college like!?” He steps back, clutching the setter’s hands in his. “How’s the team!? Are they better than us? Ha! What am I saying, of _course_ they’re better than us! You’re practically professionals! But you still miss us, right? Where’s Daichi and Asahi? I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you play! Oh my god, I swear I’ll get everyone together soon and we will come see you guys and—“

“Hey hey, slow down!” Suga releases the other’s hands and ruffles his hair. “Don’t apologize for anything! And we have all night to catch up! So how is—“

There’s suddenly some commotion behind him, and Hinata whips around to watch a beet-red Asahi struggle to shuck his coat with Noya climbing onto his shoulders, and Daichi and Tanaka shaking with laughter beside them.

Hinata flits over like a humming bird with Suga in tow, and more hugs and greetings are exchanged; Asahi finally succeeds in untangling himself from both his jacket and the birthday boy, and Tanaka and Noya continue to make their rounds to the other guests.

“I brought something I think you might like.” Asahi says with a sheepish grin, gesturing towards the case of beer he set on the counter. “Help yourself! I mean, if you even like beer that is. I’m not sure if you—“

“There’s a crow on the label!” Hinata squeals, running his eyes over the box. “I can’t wait to try it! I’ve never had beer before!”

“I couldn’t resist.” Asahi says with a blush.

“It’s so good to see you guys.” Hinata says, beaming up at his former teammates. “Kageyama is here somewhere, too!” He adds, raising up onto his toes and looking around the kitchen. “But I don’t know—“

“We saw him already!” Daichi says, snatching a beer from the box and twisting off the cap. “He let us in. He was sitting on the front steps.”

Hinata scrunches up his face. “By himself?”

Daichi nods.

“What was he doing out there?”

“Mm…dunno.” Suga says, stealing the first sip from Daichi’s bottle before handing it back. He smirks at the others. “He seemed a little…”

“Agitated.” Daichi supplies.

“We sort of figured you guys were fighting, or something.” Asahi says.

But Hinata frowns. “No…I don’t think we are.” _Could he be mad at me for what just happened?_ He wonders, but then shakes his head and smiles excitedly, balling his fists. “Would you believe we don’t really fight that much anymore?”

“No.” The three older boys say in unison. 

“Oh, he’s over there.” Daichi nods towards the doorway as he takes a drink. His hand immediately flies to his mouth to muffle a sharp laugh.

“Yep. He sure is.” Suga replies with an amused grin of his own. Asahi turns and quickly chokes on his beer.

Hinata’s brows furrow and he cranes his neck, raising back up onto his toes to enjoy the hilarious sight as well.

Suga steps aside, allowing Hinata to step in front of him and get an unobstructed view of…

_Oh._

Indeed, there is Kageyama, or at least, some _version_ of Kageyama. It looks more like a frightened baby animal rather than their self-assured setter; pressed into a corner of the noisy kitchen, blue eyes are endearingly wide and bright with clear alarm and his knuckles are white where he’s desperately gripping at the edge of the granite counter-top behind him, his upper body angled so far over it that it looks like he’s trying to climb on top of it. A seriously deep blush sears violently through his cheeks, lips parted and an expression that just _screams_ ‘danger’ masks his face.

Hinata has witnessed fear in the setter before – he’s seen those powerful shoulders tense at the prospect of a less-than-flawless toss, he’s seen the color drain from his beautiful face at the peril of game-day make-up tests, even the other day in the clubroom…Kageyama was definitely _afraid_ of…of _something._

But this. _This_. Shit.

Kageyama is _terrified._

And rightfully so.

Because less than a foot in front of him stand two girls, one of them tall, with a long blonde pony-tail, the other with short brown hair and an even shorter skirt holding a bottle of beer that she’s resting against her large chest as she gestures flirtatiously with her other hand. Poor Kageyama flinches, eyes darting from side to side as blondie steps even closer, reaching up to his shoulder to pluck a dried leaf from his navy blue hoodie.

Jealous anger ignites low in Hinata’s gut; his nostrils flare and a white-hot light tears through his vision like a lightning bolt. He feels himself stepping forward, shoving his sleeves up to his elbows and then—

“Look at those vultures.” Tanaka says coolly. Hinata stops in his tracks, red-faced and fuming as his teammate sidles up next to Daichi with a dreamy look in his eyes and a cup in his hand.  “Poor guy.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to take pity on someone getting hit on by multiple women.” Suga says, throwing Hinata a funny look. The redhead sniffs and takes a step backwards, fists tight at his sides as he watches, seething, as the brown-haired girl puts her arm around her gaudy blonde friend, leaning in to whisper in her ear. Both girls giggle and turn their attention back to the paralyzed setter.

“Mmm.” Tanaka hums in agreement as he takes a sip of his drink. “But…” He wipes his mouth with his thumb. “Those are Saeko’s friends.”

Hinata jerks his gaze up at Tanaka. He blinks.

Then they all burst out laughing.

Doubling over, tears prick the corners of his eyes as he clutches his stomach, losing his shit at his friend’s plight.

Shaken, Kageyama’s attention snaps to the raucous laughter and he meets Hinata’s watering eyes his from across the room. Dark brows furrow above an anxious, pleading gaze, and you don’t need to speak ‘Kageyama’ to know full well that those eyes are screaming: _“HELP ME!”_

Hinata bites his lip and straightens up. Wiping his tears with the back of his hand he takes a step forward again, but Nishinoya unintentionally intervenes, conveniently, with,

“SHOTS!”

The short boy’s voice carries through the house and he races around the corner from the living room, with a bottle of some expensive looking brown liquor in one hand and tiny glasses in the other that he plunks loudly in the center of the kitchen island. “Karasuno! Assemble! Kageyama, stop flirting and get over here!”

And Hinata swears that the already-swift setter has never moved faster in all his life. He’s at Hinata’s side in a flash, staring down at him with an enmity that he can almost taste.

“What?” Hinata asks innocently, hiding the blatant grin behind his fingers.

“I hate you.” Kageyama grinds out through grit teeth.

Hinata bristles, grin vanishing. “Why is that _my_ fault!?”

“You could have saved me!”

“Oh, sure, like you _hated_ every second of…of _that_.” Hinata gestures conspicuously towards the two girls still watching Kageyama from a distance, whispering to each other from behind their hands. Despite the ridiculous nature of the situation, Hinata still kind of wants to spit at them.

“What the hell makes you think—“

“Yeah, yeah. _Poor_ popular, good looking Tobio.” Hinata cuts him off with an exaggerated eye roll and a dismissive wave. “Now come on. I’m about to have my first shot.” He gets behind Kageyama and shoves him towards where Noya is loading up the glasses among several of their team mates, delighting in the way Kageyama's back muscles jump beneath his hands as a moderate heat creeps up his face.

He didn’t mean to say that, exactly.

Hinata rudely elbows his way in front of him again when they reach the island and smacks his hands excitedly to the granite, but to his complete surprise, Kageyama leans ever-so-slightly forward and rests his own hands beside Hinata’s on the island, effectively caging the smaller boy between his arms.  

Well, you know, it _is_ getting a little crowded in the kitchen…

Hinata hears a snicker from beside him and looks up to see Tsukishima eyeing Kageyama.

“Anyone else!?” Nishinoya yells. “And by ‘anyone’ I mean volleyball players only this round!” Yachi makes a small, miffed sound from beside him and he immediately drapes an arm around her. “And their beautiful managers, of course.” She blushes furiously but turns and pecks his cheek anyway with a giggle.

“Speaking of which,” She says, shimmying out from under the libero’s arm so he can finish pouring the shots, “Is Kiyoko coming? I thought she’d be here by now.”

“She’s definitely coming.” Daichi says with a smile and leaning his elbows onto the island.

“Shit, I need more glasses.” Nishinoya looks up with a sniff. “Kageyama could you…” He pauses and looks up at Kageyama, then down at Hinata, then back up at the other again. He hesitates, then clears his throat and says, “Never mind. Tsukishima, grab some shot glasses out of the cabinet behind you. Please.” He punctuates his request with a shining smile.

Hinata arches a brow, but his attention is pulled to the way that Kageyama is drumming his fingers slowly beside his own hands resting on the counter-top. He’s trying to focus on keeping his breathing shallow, as any particularly deep breath might alert Kageyama to how _very_ close they are – they aren’t _really_ touching, but if he were to maybe, say, casually lean back just a little bit, you know, all _casual_ and everything, here, in the middle of their friends, there’s no way Kageyama would cause a scene, right? So maybe if he were to just _accidentally_ —

“Where’s Ennoshita and Yuu?” Nishinoya asks, stretching up on his toes to look around the kitchen while Tsukishima returns with the glasses.

And it’s at this that he feels Kageyama stiffen, taking a small yet sharp step backwards and dropping his hands from the island.

Hinata sighs.

“Playing videogames, I think.” Yamaguchi offers.

“Their loss, then! Ready guys?” Nishinoya says, dealing out the drinks and raising his own glass.

“Happy birthday, buddy!” Tanaka cheers, clinking his glass against his friend’s. Everyone else joins in, cheering to Nishinoya and downing their shots.

That is, all except for Hinata.

He looks back at Kageyama just in time to catch the most hilarious grimace pinch his face. He drops his eyes to his own shot.

“Are you not going to do it?” Kageyama asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve with a look of disgust.

“Smells funny…” Hinata says, eyeing the amber liquid.

“Tastes even worse.”

Hinata snorts. “You’ve sold it so well.”

“Just do it already.”

“Is this what they call ‘peer pressure’?”

Kageyama just rolls his eyes.

Hinata brings the glass up hesitantly to his lips as their friends begin to disperse. He ever-so-slightly dips the tip of his tongue into the alcohol and immediately recoils, slamming the glass onto the counter and sputtering.

“Is that gasoline!?” He coughs.

“You’re supposed to do it fast, dumbass! You can’t just…lick it!”

“I’m not putting that inside me!”

“Well…” Kageyama clears his throat, cheeks suddenly pink for some reason. “Want to try...uh, something else?” He asks, gesturing towards the colorful array of bottles behind them.

Hinata nods quickly, but then drops his eyes, poking at the full glass. “But…we can’t just waste this.”

“So drink it then.”

“It’s so grooooss…” Hinata whines. “You have it.”

“I had one already!”

“Well, now you get two.”

Kageyama huffs in annoyance, narrowing his eyes.

“You take this and I promise I’ll do the next one.”

“What do I care if you drink or not!?” Kageyama snaps, oddly defensive.

“Well fine then.” Hinata mumbles, poking again at the glass, sullen, resting his chin on the island to glare at it at eye level.

Kageyama groans. “I seriously hate you so much. Fine, pick something else.”

Hinata smiles wide. He immediately straightens up and jaunts over to the liquor, running his eyes over the bottles in awe, but he frowns back at Kageyama. “I don’t know what any of this is!”

“Neither do I!”

Hinata stomps his foot and whines shrilly, just as Saeko comes up behind Kageyama and puts an arm around his waist, drinking deeply from a red plastic cup. “Need some help, boys?”

“Hinata’s whining about his shot.” Kageyama answers. 

“I don’t like it!”

“Oh honey,” Saeko laughs, stepping away from Kageyama and setting her drink down, “Nobody _likes_ them. But let’s see what we can do.”

She grabs two bottles and pours equal amounts of each liquor into a fresh glass in no time flat, and presents her creation to a bright-eyed Hinata.

“ _Wahh_ —you’re good at that!” Hinata praises, taking his new drink but staring down at it in suspicion after a sudden change of heart.

“I pour drinks at work sometimes.” Saeko explains with a dismissive wave. “You like vodka?”

“We’re about to find out.” Hinata mutters. “You first, Kageyama!”

“No, _you_ have to go first this time!”

“Hey hey, let’s all do one together!” The blonde says chuckling warmly, snagging a bottle and pouring something for herself. “Ready?” She asks, taking her place between them as Hinata and Kageyama raise their glasses with her, and then, “ _Na Zdorovie_!” Saeko cheers, tipping her head back and downing her shot gracefully. Kageyama follows suit.

Hinata does not.

“What did that mean?” He asks, wrinkling his nose.

Kageyama coughs into the crook of his elbow and regards Hinata with wide, angry eyes. “What the hell!?”

“I uh…oh.” Hinata blinks back down at his full little glass. He raises it hesitantly to his lips again and takes the tiniest of sips, and immediately spits it directly back into the glass with a gag. “Gah! Nope!” He hacks into the back of his hand, eyes watering with revulsion. “I _—_ I think that’s even worse!” He gasps between coughs.

“Hm…” Saeko hums, drumming her fingers on her lips and looking the sputtering Hinata up and down. She snaps her fingers. “I got you! Just give me a sec.” She dashes off, leaving Hinata alone with a pissy Kageyama.

“You promised!” The setter glowers.

“I’m not drinking something that burns like acid!” Hinata glares at the shot as if it had caused him a great injury.

“ _I_ just did! Twice!”

Hinata scrunches his nose and walks his fingers slowly across the granite, tapping the glass with his index finger and inching the shot closer to the other while switching to his most charming smile. “Three times?”

“Absolutely not!” Kageyama smacks his hands against the counter, staring down menacingly. “It’s not my fault you’re too much of a fucking—“

“Alright, Shouyou!” Saeko reappears with a purple liquid sloshing around in a glass. She reaches for another bottle and tops it off, turning the shot a deep red and plunking it down in front of Hinata. “Make us proud!”

“Only if he does.” Hinata sticks his tongue out at the setter.

Kageyama’s shoulders drop and he blinks rapidly at the ground. “Fine.” He growls after a slight head shake. “But I swear to god, if you don’t—“

“Scout’s honor. Cross my heart!” Hinata says, crossing his finger over his chest and clapping his hands in front of his face in prayer.

“You guys are cute.” Saeko lilts, resting her elbows on the counter and chin in her hands.

Hinata breathes out a slow, stabilizing breath and takes his drink in his hand, a look of staunch determination set in his face as he raises his glass to Kageyama. “Na…Nas…” He peeks over at Saeko for help, but she shakes her head. Hinata huffs. “To volleyball!” He says happily.

Kageyama agrees to the sentiment with an aggravated hum, raising the glass to his lips. But he pauses, watching Hinata carefully with narrowed eyes.

Hinata giggles and looks down at the glass. He breathes out one last breath and brings the drink to his mouth and sips it hesitantly.

His brow furrows and he smacks his lips.

Then he smiles.

“It’s not awful!” He says excitedly, taking another baby sip. “It's kind of weird, though. What is it?” He asks Saeko, watching as Kageyama tips vile liquid into his mouth.

“It’s called a redheaded slut.” The blonde says with a wink.

Hinata snorts into another sip, a wide grin lighting up his face while Kageyama straight up chokes, sputtering and spitting half the liquor back into the glass before running to the sink with his hand clapped tightly over his lips.

Giggling as they watch Kageyama convulse and retch by the sink,  Saeko and Hinata merrily clink their glasses before she ruffles his hair and claps Kageyama on the back in sympathy. "Take good care of him, Shouyou." She winks again and laughs her way out of the kitchen.

“Are you going to make it?” Hinata teases. Kageyama half turns, blue eyes bloodshot and watering before he spits forcefully into the sink.

"'s like drain cleaner— _fuck_ —laced with toothpaste!— _"_

Hinata looks around the kitchen, sipping his shot while he waits for Kageyama to recover. They've drawn interested and concerned glances from a few proximal party guests, but Hinata just shrugs at them and they lose interest quickly. 

Disgusted coughs are becoming less and less frequent when Hinata swallows hard, throat working when his eyes fall on the twice-spit-up shot. "Oh..." He starts, fingering the rim of his glass. "You know...that was in my mouth..."

Kageyama turns towards him, face gloriously red as he nods, pulling in a watery breath and rasping out, "I know.  _Ugh_ \--fuck." He finally straightens, stabilizing himself with one hand clamped onto the edge of the sink. "Fucking gross." He finishes, wiping his mouth with his sleeve as wet, burning eyes find Hinata's.

A sharp tendril of hurt uncoils in his stomach as Kageyama eyes him, clearly repulsed by having consumed something that had touched Hinata's lips. He rankles and slams his shot onto the counter, red liquid sloshing over the rim as a lump rises in his throat. Well what did he expect, exactly? What was the point of bringing attention to that?

"Sorry I'm so...so...sickening!" Hinata blurts, eyebrows pinching as he turns on his heel with every intention to stomp his way out of the kitchen.

But a strong hand finds his and tugs him back.

"Not _that_ , dumbass." Kageyama rasps, pulling their hands apart in favor of reaching for the clear object of his disgust and slinging it down the sink. "I think that was poison." He says, tossing the empty glass into the basin with a loud rattle and snatching Hinata's half-finished shot off the counter before pressing it carefully into his palm. "You drink that  _now._ "

Hinata blinks at the shot in his hand before looking up at the guy who, for all intents and purposes, just accepted Hinata's spit into his mouth after mopping up his blood with his clothing less than an hour ago and didn't complain about either event. And he can't help but pull in an audible breath.

He can _feel_ his pupils dilate at the hazy, liquid appearance to Kageyama's typically irritated eyes, face flushed from coughing, maybe a little from the alcohol, and lips rubbed red from the back of his hand. His hair has become tousled, sticking up a little funny on the side and Hinata wishes he could reach up and mess it up even more. The taller boy is watching him expectantly, in return, eyes slipping from the shot to Hinata's face - to his  _mouth_ , he realizes.

Oh god why.  _Why_ does he keep looking at his mouth?

"Um...a-alright." Hinata stammers. He raises the glass to his lips once again, or tries to at least. Kageyama's fingers wrapped around his wrist are making the task a little difficult. Hinata stills, lips parted as he rolls his eyes slowly upward. 

"You don't have to...if you don't want to." Kageyama says quietly. 

He swallows, eyelids fluttering at their proximity, at Kageyama's fingers softly pressing into his skin. 

And then he feels it - a kindling. No, a spark, really. Something igniting beneath the raging blaze of love and agonizing longing. The physical sensation making very little sense if he were to really think about it, but he's finding rational thought a rare commodity at the moment, not to mention things like oxygen.

_Breathe, Shouyou._

But the momentary flicker of heat, something that could be described as a passing fullness welling up in his heart, is something he has felt before, he knows.

This feeling, so often paired with a frantic disengagement whenever associated with Kageyama.

Except not this time.

This time he almost allows the spark to overtake him, to burn recklessly through all reason and restraint.

"No, stupid." He manages with a sly smile, though still a little breathless with a fire raging inside him. "You're not going to beat me at this."

"I'm already two ahead of you, dumbass." Kageyama replies, releasing Hinata's wrist, almost self-consciously.

"Two and a half." Hinata reminds him, smirking. He steels himself and dumps the rest of the red liquid into his mouth. His eyes immediately fly open wide as he struggles to swallow it down, tears springing up with the effort. "One-- _guh_!" He grabs his chest, gasping. _"One_ and a half!"

Hinata hasn't even finished recovering when Kageyama reaches forward. He flinches, instinctively, but instead of the familiar tug of fingers wound tightly against his scalp that he thinks about as he's falling asleep at night, Kageyama does something that is sure to be imprinted into his physical memory until the day he dies.

And it's nothing that he hasn't felt before, shit, he's felt it twice already today.

From other people, of course.

But when Kageyama reaches out and twines his fingers loosely into his hair and just...ruffles it, that spark consumes him, he _lets_ it, searing red hot across his skin, diving into his chest and winding its way down into his gut where it unfurls, smolders, taking the shape of an embarrassing whimper that slips past his lips.

Kageyama drops his hand, and with one final, half-lidded glance down at pink lips sliding into a shaky smile, he shakes his head and promptly moves past Hinata and out the sliding glass door, glancing back with a nod, urging Hinata to follow.

 

And that feeling, now, flaring up inside, only because he has finally allowed it to break free, can only be identified as - oh god, heaven help him - as  _hope._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE BETTER WRITTEN AND LESS DUMB I PROMISE
> 
> This was so hard to write. I had so little time to really focus on it but I wanted so so badly to start Nishinoya's party but I feel like i should have just WAITED the few weeks for school to be over. Ugh. I woke up this morning in shock to see that I had posted it last night after completing it half asleep. I'll make up for the awful pacing, I promise!!
> 
> //
> 
> And for those of you wondering! The shots Nishinoya poured were Crown Royal whisky, the first shot Saeko made for Hinata was vodka and rumple minze (which is not an actual thing, just an unfortunate accident that I once learned a hard lesson from), and the redheaded slut is a mix of peach schnapps, Jaegermeister, and cranberry juice, and the beer that Asahi brings is Stubs Old Crow Hazelnut Porter
> 
> //
> 
> My GOD. The world has been blessed with this heart-stoppingly adorable, beautiful art by the wonderfully sweet and talented @nekolyssi for [the band-aid scene](https://nekolyssi.tumblr.com/image/156558032369)!!! I don't know how she managed to capture exactly what what in my head, she's a wiZER.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to make a point in saying that I have been absolutely overwhelmed with the amount of love and support you guys have been offering lately. It's been a tough couple of months for me, and yet you guys have helped get me through it by either leaving comments here or talking to me on tumblr, sending me your au ideas or showing genuine excitement over the one-shots (more are on the way istg). I try really hard to respond to all of your comments but sometimes my life is a total shit show, but please know that my heart swells every single time I get a new comment in my inbox and that I read every single one. Usually my silence is due entirely to the fact that I have no idea how to express my feelings in a way that your beautiful words deserve. I'm VERY BAD at showing gratitude, but I'm working on it :D
> 
> Okay okay, sorry. I just had to get that out there. Here's the new thing!! <3<3

“K-Kageyama! Wait—I—this isn’t—s-stop! Please!—I can’t—god, just p-please slow down!”

“Dumbass,” Kageyama growls through grit teeth. “This was _your_ idea! Deal with it!”

“Yeah but!—just wait—wait a second—you’re k-killing me!”

“What happened to all that stamina of yours, huh?” The setter sneers, shifting his grip. “I could do this all night.”

“That’s not—it’s not—this is hardly the same thing! _Guh—_ I’m…I can’t—you—please!”

“Just—Hinata! Dumbass—hold on, don’t!—“

“It’s—it’s slipping!”

“Ugh! Fine!” Kageyama snaps, releasing his hold of the heavy log between them with a slight stagger. Hinata yelps when it hits the grass with a soft thud. “We’re like ten feet away! You couldn’t hold on for three more seconds!?”

“It’s the forth one! Not everyone was blessed with giant gorilla hands, asshole!” Hinata cries, lips pulling downwards as he flexes his stiff fingers beneath Kageyama’s judging scowl. “Hurts…”

The setter bristles. “I do not have—“

 “You morons know that round things _roll_ , right?” Tsukishima says loudly, his shit-eating grin half-illuminated by the dancing orange of warm firelight as he turns towards the panting duo. Yamaguchi laughs quietly beside him from one of the other logs Hinata and Kageyama have already industriously set up around the fire among several camping chairs.

Hinata’s jaw drops and he shoots a look up at Kageyama, throwing his hands into the air. “Idiot! Why didn’t you say anything!?”

“If I had thought of it I would have!”

“ _Guhh_ Kageyamaaa…” Hinata whines, kicking at the log. “Nng!—oww ow ow…”

“Well, come on, dumbass,” Kageyama mutters, wiping his forehead with his sleeve while the other hops around in exaggerated injury, “Thought you wanted your marshmallows.”

The theatrics immediately cease at Kageyama’s reminder and the two of them roll the final makeshift bench the short distance to the fireside, joining a handful of their teammates and a smattering of random party guests in the comforting ring of smoky warmth.

 _Mmm…yeah. Comforting warmth._ Kageyama thinks lazily, watching Hinata wiggle around, situating himself on the log in front of him and loudly pawing at the goody bag containing the s’mores necessities, upending the bag and dumping the contents all over the grass. Even if he’s still sweating from their manual labor in a way he wouldn’t exactly call ‘comforting’, the warmth he’s presently enjoying is fathoms away from the sticky, perspiration-y kind.

He drops down beside Hinata and slides his slightly-addled gaze to the softly crackling fire. He’s always had a thing for fires, though it was a rare occasion when he actually got to enjoy one. Not since he was little and hadn’t grown into himself yet; a time when he still had, you know. Friends.

Not that that’s really an issue anymore – or ever was, honestly, depending on your definition of ‘issue’.

Not letting people in is just…better.

Usually.

It isn’t long before his eyes wander to Hinata again, the idiot concentrating way too hard on stabbing a marshmallow on a stick with his little tongue poking out the corner of his mouth, giggling occasionally at some story that Suga is telling the group from beside him. Kageyama’s long fingers dig into the rough bark of the log beneath him, coiling and grating, blunt nails absently chipping away the texture while he slowly licks his lips, gaze lingering on the crinkle at the edge of smiling brown eyes before dropping to the sheen of moist, bitten lips curling in delight in the blossoming radiance of the flames, messy hair aglow like soft, shimmering filament.

Yeah…he’s always had such a thing…for fires…so _pretty_ …he could so easily just reach out and—

“Here, Kageyama!”

Kageyama jumps and blinks rapidly at the stick being held out to him, adorned carefully with marshmallow, and glides his eyes past it to Hinata’s grin. Tentatively, he reaches, eyes trained on that smile as he realizes, with reasonable alarm, that he doesn’t have to reach very far as his hand is already halfway along in some sort of reflexive, impromptu migration.

“Um. Thanks.” He mumbles, taking the stick and quick to look away. _Too_ quick to look away.

Alright, he isn’t _drunk_ , exactly.

But go figure they found the _one_ activity that the little asshole wasn’t chomping at the goddamn bit to throw himself into and overdo with the fiercest determination. The one thing in which he isn’t desperate to come out on top.

_Hinata…on top—_

Kageyama shakes his head.

And it isn’t disappointment he feels, he swears. He would never want his tiny teammate to feel ill or to engage in some behavior he wouldn’t otherwise take part in just because he drank too much. But the passing thought of caring for him after a few too many adult beverages had been a little too savory.

And fuck, they have all night, anyway.

Wait, no. No, that’s not what he means.

_Ugh._

He had just sort of… _expected…_

But…but somehow…what the _fuck –_ how is _he_ the one with the hazy waver to his vision; the prickling flush of overindulgence heating his face. This feeling of…of _warmth_ winding… _so pleasantly_ through him; meandering. This heavy, tidal ebb and flow through buried cavities and arid vessels beneath his cold, tired skin.

Again, it isn’t that he feels drunk. Not that he has any idea how that’s supposed to feel, but he’s _sure_ the recent bout of sleeplessness isn’t helping him feel any more sober. Or awake. Or whatever. Anything opposite of whatever state he’s presently in.

Really. He isn’t drunk.

His head just feels…dull. Full. Fuzzy. Like his brain takes just a fraction of a second too long to coordinate with his eyes when he moves his head, his limbs are somehow both weighted down and seemingly lighter, and quite obviously _not under his full control_.

And then there’s this fucking _warmth_ – has he mentioned this? – resting snugly, low in his gut, seeping steadily and slowly up into his chest and radiating out into his arms – filling him. _Oozing_ through him, really, drop by warm, syrupy drop; like the jolt of nerves he feels before a big game, but somehow…much slower, drawn out, like it wants to take its time, this time, surging beneath his skin like the swell of a wave never quite to break the surface.

But it’s the way the warmth seems to pulse, to flow downwards…lower and lower…this fluid _heat_ that’s making him squirm where he sits.

 _God_ , he just feels _good._

A fact he’s been scrambling to keep under wraps for the last hour since their time in the kitchen. _So_ good he feels _guilty_ about it. And so he sits – leg bouncing, eyes fixed on the ground in front of him, grip tightening around the stick in his hands—

“…yama~ Kageyaamaaa~ hey!” Hinata waves his hand in front of Kageyama’s face. “You have to get the marshmallow in the fire for it to work, you know.” The redhead giggles, waving his own stick over the lapping flames for emphasis.

“Anyone want a beer?” Asahi asks, rising to his feet from the other side of the fire. “Nishinoya?” He looks down, behind him, as the libero jumps a little, blinking dazedly away from Hinata, for some reason.

“No thanks.” He replies, sliding his eyes to Kageyama. He grins drunkenly and tips his beer to his lips, twiddling his fingers in a coy _‘hello’_.

“Me, me!” Hinata calls, raising his hand excitedly. “The cool crow ones, right!? I wanna try!”

Asahi points to the setter. “Kageyama?”

Kageyama shakes his head, finally dipping his marshmallow into the fire as their former teammate heads towards the house. “Trying again, huh?” He asks Hinata, focused on keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Might as well. Gotta find something I like!”

“I don’t think that’s a rule for life or anything, dumbass.”

Kageyama can see the way Hinata drops his gaze out of the corner of his eye, biting his lip as he watches the setter’s knee bounce. When he intentionally stills, self-conscious, Hinata chews on the inside of his cheek, thinking for a couple seconds before he asks, to Kageyama’s leg, “Do you feel funny?”

Kageyama snaps his head around to look Hinata in the face. “No! What!? Funny?”

“From the alcohol, I mean.” Hinata blinks a few times, brow crinkling. “I feel sort of tingly.”

“Tingly where—er how?” Kageyama mentally punches himself in the face.

But Hinata just shrugs and turns his attention back to his marshmallow, which is on fire. He pulls it to his face and blows on the flame to extinguish it. “Like all, _gwahh_ inside. But maybe I’m just imagining it because I think that’s how it’s supposed to feel.”

“You sure that’s the alcohol?” Apparently the first punch wasn’t enough.

“No. I’m not.” Hinata replies, pulling his gooey treat from the stick and shoving it into his mouth.

Kageyama watches him swat away the stringy residue clinging to both the stick and his lips and try to chew around the sloppy burnt mess before licking the stickiness from his fingers.

He…isn’t sure how much of this he’s going to be able to take.

“Here you go, Hinata.” Asahi returns, holding a bottle beside his face. The little redhead regards him with wide eyes and then looks from sticky hand to sticky hand, and then to Kageyama’s surprise, gestures towards him.

“Gi’ i’ du ‘im.”

Reluctantly, Kageyama accepts the cool bottle into his sweaty hand while the other smiles around a still-full mouth.

“’ank ‘ou!”

Kageyama is too busy admiring the lip smacking and finger licking beside him to notice that his own marshmallow has had enough of this pathetic display, and has leapt off the lovesick boy’s stick and into the coals. But Hinata notices.

“Mm! Ka‘yama!” He wave-points at the flames before grabbing at Kageyama’s sleeve with his goopy hands, shaking him from his trance. He swallows down his glop of sugar and digs his little fingers into the other’s forearm, shaking him. “Save it! Save it!”

Kageyama looks down at where Hinata is holding onto him, then at the fire, then at Hinata’s dumb, wide-eyed little face and then back down at his hands. He’s determined not to let this derail him from…from…whatever the hell he’s doing, in this moment, that is definitely _not_ , now, staring at the small part in Hinata’s lips. His fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle and he exhales harshly out his nose. That delicate, pointed chin drops and Hinata emits a little _eep_ of surprise, wrenching his hands off and holding them beside his face in a surrender of an apology.

“S-sorry!” He squeaks out, glancing at his dirty hands before folding them together and dropping them sheepishly into his lap with a hunch of his thin shoulders. He rubs his palms together anxiously in a way that can’t feel too pleasant with the stickiness between them. “God. You’re going to be covered in me by the end of the night.” He grumbles at the fire, his cheeks taking on the same hue as the embers.

Kageyama’s stick joins the marshmallow in self-immolation when he abandons it, jerking his hand back in favor of smacking himself in the forehead so hard he almost topples backwards off the log.

Blood rushes so quickly up into his face he wonders if he has fallen into the fire.

Kageyama spreads his fingers, peeking out at those brows knitted together in that little pouty way again, attention dropping to lips drawn into a puzzled scowl before Hinata’s tongue flicks out, running along the side of his mouth to catch the last of the marshmallowy mess.

_Kissing…Hinata…_

The steady din of collective voices begins to fade away as Kageyama stares covertly at his friend; mind dull, slow and cottony, his hand shifts to comb back through black hair where he grips it at the back of his head, tugging at it weakly for a breath before sliding it back around to drag down his face. He breathes out forcefully, loudly, letting his hand drop heavily onto his thigh. Hinata’s eyes follow it, lip worried between his teeth as he seems to mull something over.

And then brown eyes shoot up to Kageyama’s face – he can’t even begin to imagine what kind of expression he’s wearing right now, himself – wild with what he can only guess is mortification after working out the implications of the idiotic thing he just said.

Hinata stares, jaw slack and eyes wide as can be as a small sound clacks in his throat. And then, like an Alzheimer’s patient, his sticky hands clamp back down on Kageyama’s forearm, and with a powerful gasp he blurts out, in genuine upset:

“I forgot about the graham crackers!” 

And as Hinata releases him, diving for the box on the ground in front of them and tearing into the packaging like a ravenous fiend, Kageyama can only watch dumbly, blinking slowly while Hinata plunges into the box, excitedly offering up the crackers to those around them, and _‘oh my GOD the CHOCOLATE!’,_ wrappers flying and fluttering to the ground before Hinata settles back onto the log, swaying happily and shoving one end of an entire Hersey bar into his own mouth.

Kageyama blinks again, dragging up his eyelids amidst the ether of smoke, exhaustion, and the debilitating crescendo of fondness expanding impossibly inside as Hinata turns to him, eyes shining in the light of the fire while he snaps off the half of the chocolate bar not in his mouth, offering it to Kageyama with wordless hum of presentation.

The wave of warmth has crested, plunging him deep into the abyss of tragic, hopeless affection.

And Kageyama surrenders to the only response his tired body and mind will allow. He laughs.

This starts with a sharp pitch forward, catching his scarlet face in his hands. And then deep, full-bodied laughter rolls through him uncontrollably, hysteria radiating across his skin and lighting him up like a lantern, heart swelling to near bursting. He’s loud. So loud he doesn’t notice the hushed silence that has befallen the fireside. The depth to his laughter soon segues into something lighter, more strained – throatier. He’s either weeping pitifully or cackling like a crazy person – he can’t really tell anymore.

When he finally comes to – or stops laughing, he doesn’t know the difference – everyone is quiet and all eyes are on him. Most of them shocked, others amused, and those who don’t know the stoic setter just look kind of curious.

“Everything…okay?” Suga asks slowly, concerned, while Kageyama scrubs at his eyes with his Hinata-covered sleeve, the silver-haired young man’s eyes vacillating from Kageyama to Hinata’s adorably confusion-scrunched little face as the boy swallows down too much chocolate at once.

Kageyama can’t stop grinning. He feels lost. Insane. He blinks away tears, tremors of mirth still rippling through him while he watches Hinata’s mouth work around some silent attempt at a question.

“Yeah.” Kageyama says simply, still smiling with his blurred gaze pinned to Hinata. “Everything’s fine.” 

He licks his lips before pressing them together, forcing the crazed smile down and away and breathes out steadily through his nose, brows crinkling pitifully at the pinkish hue tinging Hinata’s cheeks and the little smudge of chocolate smeared childlike at the corner of his mouth; the other so very obviously flustered when he snaps his attention back to the fire in front of him, shoving the chocolate once offered to Kageyama into his face.

Kageyama remembers the bottle in his hand and raises it to his lips, taking a long, slow drink of the foul beverage, but he stops short because for one thing it’s disgusting, and for another thing a blushed, huffy little face is aimed towards again him and shouting:

“Hey! That’s mine!”

Kageyama wipes his mouth and extends his hand to have the bottle snatched greedily up into sugar-coated fingers. Pouty lips take an immediate, indignant sip, and spit just as immediately onto the ground with a loud ‘ _ACK!’_

“Ugh…” Hinata sniffs, glaring at the bottle, “This is yours,” He concedes miserably, passing the beer back to Kageyama with a sad frown, “I was so excited, too.”

“Don’t worry,” Asahi says encouragingly from across the fire, “It took me a while to get used to the taste, too.”

“I don’t think I’m patient enough to be an adult.” Hinata grumbles, embarrassed.

“He seriously only drank this wine that tastes like, straight up kool-aid until about a month ago.” Daichi says, grinning broadly as Asahi.

“I still like it.” Asahi mumbles, blushing into a sip of his own beer.

“Kool-aid wine!” Hinata cries excitedly, “I want that! Do you have any!?”

“Settle down, dumbass. Jesus.” Kageyama mutters, taking a gulp of the beer. It’s…so gross. “You probably wouldn’t like that, either.”

“Oh shut up, you wet blanket,” Hinata snaps, reaching down and snatching up another marshmallow stick, shoving it into Kageyama’s face, “Here. You suck at this.”

Kageyama takes the stick while Hinata holds the other end in his hand, popping another marshmallow on the end of it. How is heart can thrum so erratically at such a simple gesture, he really has no idea. There’s just something so…caring about it.

He tries not to pound the rest of his beer right then and there.

“Don’t ruin that one.” Hinata says, working a marshmallow onto his own stick. “Clumsy-yama.”

Blue eyes narrow. “That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

Blanking his face, Kageyama flicks his wrist, smacking Hinata in the forehead with his marshmallow, his stomach fluttering at the little cheep of surprise and wide, irked brown eyes staring back at him. Hinata rubs his forehead and then returns the favor, thunking Kageyama on the bridge of his nose.

Blue eyes flash with insult, eyelid twitching and feathers ruffling as Kageyama sits up straight. The next soft _pop_ of a blow lands against Hinata’s cheek, sending the boy toppling backwards off the log with a loud: _Wah!_

And Kageyama faces front, drops his marshmallow into the fire, and bites back the smile threatening to burst free when the small redhead pops up on his knees, glaring hard at the side of Kageyama’s warming face.

But then he peeks at the tiny smile working its way onto Hinata’s face, pushing up into bright red cheeks, hair sticking up in all directions and lips a chocolatey mess, and he can’t help but smile himself.

 

* * *

 

**Seventy-eight minutes earlier**

 

“You didn’t have to get me anything!” Nishinoya insists to his blushing manager as they sit on the living room couch, graciously accepting the ornate bottle offered to him with a bright orange bow tied around the neck, none the less. “Having you here is more than enough. Man, how did you even get this?”

“My mom doesn’t ask many questions,” Yachi replies, “She was more than happy to pick it up for me.”

“It looks so fancy…” Nishinoya continues with a slight frown, “…and expensive. You really didn’t have to.”

“Nothing’s too expensive for my favorite libero.”

Nishinoya preens, a satisfied yet humble blush illuminating his grinning face as he turns the bottle of whiskey over in his hands. “So…should we…?” He asks, raising the bottle and nodding towards the loud kitchen.

“It’s your gift,” Yachi reminds him, “Use it how you like. But I’m in. And also…” She says, snagging a decorative bag at her feet and placing it on the coffee table in front of him, “In case you felt like sharing.”

Noya reaches into the bag excitedly, drawing his hand back out with several shot glasses pinned in his fingers. He jumps off the couch, grabs the bottle with his other hand and yells:

“SHOTS!”

He takes off in the direction of the kitchen with Yachi following close behind.

He bursts through the doorway, blowing by some lions closing in on a poor defenseless Kageyama, all blushed cheeks and wide, frightened eyes.

“Karasuno! Assemble!” The shot glasses clatter against the hard stone of the countertop when Nishinoya reaches the island. “Kageyama, stop flirting and get over here!” He calls. Yeah – sorry, harpies, but not on his watch.

He’s not just a guardian of the court, you know.

“Tanaka, grab those, will you?” Noya asks, nodding at the few shot glasses beside the liquor. “Saeko!” He hisses, stepping back and tugging her away from the sink by her sleeve. He pulls her down and whispers in her ear, “Keep those lechers under control! Kageyama is not a piece of meat!”

Saeko laughs at this and raises her eyes to where Hinata is scowling up at a red faced Kageyama and gesturing wildly at her two friends, who are, indeed, still eyeing Kageyama like a tasty snack. “He looks fine to me,” She says as Hinata roughly shoves Kageyama towards the island, “I think Shouyou has it handled.” She adds with an amused whisper before straightening up to weave her way to her friends, ushering them out of the kitchen.

Noya watches them leave, satisfied, before turning back to important matters at hand and sweeping his eyes around the gathered faces of his teammates and their little blonde manager, who has wormed her way up beside him. “Anyone else!?” He shouts, popping open the bottle of whiskey. “And by ‘anyone’ I mean volleyball players only this round!” He adds, just in case. He hears Yachi scoff quietly and immediately throws his arm around her, “And their beautiful managers of course.” He says with a shit-eating grin. He spills his first attempt at pouring a shot when she kisses him on the cheek.

“Speaking of which,” She says, ducking from beneath his arm, “Is Kiyoko coming? I thought she’d be here by now.”

Nishinoya frowns down at the glasses, because, yeah, he figured she would be here by now, too. She texted him yesterday saying she wouldn’t miss it so—

“She’s definitely coming.” Daichi speaks up, throwing a knowing glance towards Nishinoya. The libero breathes a mental sigh of relief, but decides to play it cool.

“Shit, I need more glasses,” He mutters, counting the shots, “Kageyama could you…” He trails off when he raises his eyes to the setter, noticing the way blue eyes flicker up anxiously from the red hair in front of him, seemingly somewhat paranoid that he may have just been—

 _‘Caught. Definitely,_ caught _.’_ Nishinoya thinks, somewhat triumphantly, clearing his throat and turning instead to Tsukishima. “Never mind. Tsukishima, grab some shot glasses out of the cabinet behind you. Please.” He grins up at his tall teammate, letting whatever the hell is happening between those two just…be.

And this, like every similar moment he has witnessed in the weeks past, he will not mention to anyone.

 

* * *

 

**Fifty-nine minutes later**

 

Nishinoya is drunk.

He is drunk and _captivated._

Yes, the party is in full swing, _yes_ he is feeling great about the turn out – swelling with pride is more like it – and the fire has him all nice and toasty from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Or maybe that’s the alcohol.

But the loud voices around the fireside have faded out long ago and he stares, now, completely transfixed at what is unfolding before his eyes beyond the flames. _Rapt_ is his attention.

He _has_ to mention this to someone.

“Hey…Ryu.” He hisses to his friend beside him, presently engaged in some inferior conversation with a girl next to him. “Ryu!” He tries again, waving his hand haphazardly, unwilling to tear his eyes from the action – not that anything is really _happening_ , exactly, but the way Kageyama is staring at Hinata’s mouth as he chews around his marshmallow makes Noya feel somewhat…dirty.

He leans forward, elbows posted on his knees and bottle dangling from his fingers as Asashi returns from fetching fresh drinks, blocking his view of whatever happened to make Hinata latch onto Kageyama’s forearm in alarm.

“I missed it.” Nishinoya mutters, miffed, to absolutely no one, leaning back in his chair as his gaze remains fixed to Kageyama’s rapidly reddening face. Poor boy looks like he’s having a heart attack. Nishinoya leans forward again when Hinata anxiously rips his hands away, straining to hear whatever the redhead is mumbling towards the fire.

“RYU!” Noya finally yells at his friend as Kageyama wobbles on the log after smacking himself in the face.

“What!?” Tanaka hisses, jerking his head around.

“Shh—shut up and look at this!” Nishinoya whispers, nodding across the fire.

Tanaka follows his line of sight, eyes flickering from Kageyama peeking out from between his fingers at Hinata, to Hinata looking up at Kageyama, seemingly confused as all hell about something. He leans in towards Noya to whisper, “What am I looking at, exactly?”

“Just watch.” Nishinoya insists, refusing to look away and taking a sip of beer, mesmerized, like he’s watching a volleyball game on mute.

They see the way Hinata’s eyes drop, following Kageyama’s hand into his lap where he lets it fall, revealing wide blue eyes and a deep blush high in Kageyama’s cheeks – whatever inaudible thing Hinata said really seemed to hit home.

When Hinata’s own eyes fly wide, Nishinoya leans forward in anticipation.

“I forgot about the graham crackers!” Hinata screeches, grabbing Kageyama’s arm again before flopping into the grass.

“I still don’t…get it.” Tanaka whispers slowly, leaning forward as well and watching Hinata tear into the rest of the s’mores materials.

“Watch Kageyama.” Noya whispers in return.

And Tanaka does. They both do – watching Kageyama like a couple of creeps, staring at him while _he_ stares at Hinata ripping into the chocolate and eventually settling back onto the log with an entire candy bar sticking out of his mouth.

Tanaka frowns. “He always looks like that. What—“

“Shh!” Noya silences him, jamming his finger crookedly against the side of Tanaka’s mouth and never taking his eyes off the spectacle of Hinata offering Kageyama half of his chocolate. “Something is about to happen.”

He bats Noya’s finger away. “How the hell do you know that?” Tanaka asks, taking a long sip of his drink.

But then something _does._ Tanaka claps a hand over his mouth and Nishinoya’s fingers clutch at Tanaka’s sleeve when Kageyama lurches forward, face falling into his hands, seemingly about to throw up, or perhaps burst into tears.

But something even more shocking transpires. Something neither of them have ever seen or heard before.

Kageyama laughs.

But he doesn’t just laugh – he loses his shit completely.

Nishinoya paws at his friend’s arm excitedly as Tanaka spits a mouthful of alcohol all over the ground in front of him, choking in wide-eyed disbelief at the sight and rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.

“See!?” Nishinoya shakes Tanaka’s arm.

Tanaka coughs. “How did you know that was going to happen?”

“I didn’t.” The libero admits, hushed, fingers still clutching tightly to Tanaka’s arm. “Keep watching.”

The next few seconds lie halfway between amusing and disturbing, with no one entirely sure just what the hell is going on; least of all, Hinata, Nishinoya concludes, this evidenced by the look of astonishment and confusion woven like patchwork into his face as he struggles to chew his chocolate.

“Everything…okay?” Suga asks, looking around the fire at several concerned faces. Nishinoya sees tears in Kageyama’s eyes when his hands fall away, and he’s guessing that Tanaka sees this as well, what with the quiet ‘ _oh my god_!’ he mutters through teeth clenched in camouflaged shock and the way his hand excitedly grasps at Nishinoya’s, the one still gripping onto his arm.

 _“_ What am I looking at!? _”_ Tanaka hisses out the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s just say this is the latest installment in a long series of episodes.” Nishinoya whispers in return.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says to Suga, smiling like a maniac with eyes glued to Hinata – who still has no idea what is going on, by the way, but his face is becoming redder and redder by the second, “Everything is fine.”

Hinata frowns deeply at this and turns his attention back to the fire before sticking more chocolate into his mouth, Kageyama’s eyes stay on him all the same.

“Why is he watching him like that?” Tanaka whispers, “Is he drunk?”

“You should have seen him in the kitchen—“

“Hey! That’s mine!” Hinata shrieks at Kageyama as the setter takes a sip of the beer in his hand.

Nishinoya muffles some sudden laughter, almost climbing into Tanaka’s lap, slamming his bottle into Tanaka’s chest after Hinata spits beer all over the ground and turns back to Kageyama, sheepishly extending the bottle back to him.

“So…wait.” Tanaka says with Nishinoya still clinging to him as Hinata talks to Asashi. “Do you think…”

“I don’t know.” Noya admits. “But you see it, right? I’m not crazy!?”

“How have I never noticed this before!?”

“You’ve never noticed _anything!?_ ”

“Well…no.” Tanaka frowns. “They’ve always…been…kind of…” Noya looks up at his friend as full understanding washes over him. His eyes flick from Hinata to Kageyama. “So…are they actually, like, you know…”

“I really don’t think so,” Nishinoya says, “And Shouyou seems to be completely oblivious to it.”

“He’s oblivious to _that!?”_ Tanaka shakes Noya, who is still hanging off him, gesturing to Kageyama. “I’ve never seen anyone look so…enamored.”

“Well…I’ve never really seen him this bad before.” Nishinoya says, kind of in awe. “Pretty sure he _is_ drunk.”

“What about Hinata? Is he—“

“Look at him!” Noya loops his arm around Tanaka’s neck, forcing his line of sight to the blushing redhead who is working a marshmallow on a stick held by Kageyama.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Tanaka insists.

“His _face,_ Ryu! How can you not see it!?”

“He _always_ looks like that!”

“Because he’s _always_ looking at—“

Nishinoya quiets when Kageyama suddenly bashes Hinata in the face with his marshmallow, the setter smirking at the little gasp of shock he earns. Tanaka grabs at the front of Nishinoya’s shirt excitedly, as if to say _‘look look’!_ but the libero is already so engrossed in this new development. He tightens his hold around Tanaka’s neck when Hinata reciprocates, waiting with bated breath to see if Hinata will now live or die.

But Kageyama just smacks him again, toppling the little spiker backwards off the log. Hinata pops back up, seemingly furious, but immediately dissolves into a smile, one so easily shared by Kageyama.

It’s so affectionate that Nishinoya cannot help but tighten his hold around Tanaka, who is quite literally on the edge of his seat as well.

But when Kageyama reaches out a hand slowly, calmly, to Hinata’s face they freeze completely. And so does Hinata. But Kageyama continues on like he’s engaging in the most natural activity in the world and slides his fingertips slowly back against Hinata’s cheek, and then effortlessly swipes his thumb over the side of his mouth.

“He’s not…” Noya whispers.

“No way…” Tanaka answers.

“He _is!_ ” Nishinoya cheers quietly, his heart beating like crazy in anticipation.

Brown eyes fly impossibly wide when Kageyama brings his own thumb to his lips, casually licking the chocolate from his skin while he turns his attention back to the fire and taking a sip of his beer, completely unaware of the shaky hand rising to Hinata’s apple-red face, the trembling fingers tracing over the side of his parted lips.  

Brown and grey eyes snap back and forth from Kageyama to Hinata and back again, breath held as Hinata’s mouth works uselessly, gaze fixed in utter shock to the side of Kageyama’s face.

It’s quite clear, to everyone involved, that Kageyama has absolutely no idea what he just did.

And, tragically, Nishinoya lacks the pure poetry of language to ever hope to describe the beauty of Hinata’s full collapse beneath the weight of his panicked astonishment, the elegance to his staggered rise to his feet, the vibrant bloom in his cheeks hidden behind his still-tremulous fingers, the vulnerability reflected in his big eyes that widen still when Kageyama finally looks back at him in question. 

Nishinoya blinks, somewhat rapidly. _Shouyou is kind of…beautiful._ He thinks dumbly, holding his breath along with Tanaka, arms around each other, gripped completely by the evolving drama, as Kageyama frowns, opening his mouth to say—

“Well, isn’t this cute.” A soft, feminine voice murmurs airily above them.

They start in each other’s arms, and two sets of wide eyes shoot up to the source of the interruption and then back down to meet. Jaws drop in surprised excitement, and they immediately release each other to instead launch themselves at this new arrival, knocking over camping chairs with a shared, resounding call of:

“KIYOKO!”

Weepy birthday greetings paired with tight hugs are quickly exchanged, and Tanaka makes haste back to the house to get their beloved former manager a drink.

“I can’t believe you came!” Noya says through a drunkenly tearful smile, leading the girl by the hand to sit beside him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She replies with a small, shy laugh. She waves to Daichi and Asahi.

But Nishinoya just shrugs happily. “My birthday is officially complete.” He finishes with a dramatic tear-wipe.

“Don’t say that yet.” Kiyoko says, slipping a small wrapped package from her jacket pocket. She places it on the libero’s knee while he’s too busy gaping at her in awe. “It isn’t much…” She turns away with pink in her cheeks, “But Daichi said that you passed your driver’s test, so…”

He looks down and delicately rips the wrapping off the side of the gift, exposing a small box beneath. He lifts the top to find a shiny metal volleyball keychain nestled among orange tissue paper.

“Turn it over.” She says with a smile.

He picks it up gingerly and flips it over in his fingers to reveal the message etched into the back, _“To Karasuno’s Guardian God—“_ He reads before looking up, moved. She gestures for him to continue. _“Always do your best. Love, Kiyoko.”_ He finishes with a watery gasp and flings his arms around her, sobbing joyously.

“I’m glad you like it.” Kiyoko giggles, returning the hug gladly, patting him on the head.

“I do. So much!” He sniffs. “Thank you. I want you to bury me with this, okay?”

“How morbid.” She laughs.

“For you, my dear.” Tanaka says, handing Kiyoko a cup when as she and Noya separate. “Hey.” Tanaka whispers to Nishinoya, nodding to the opposite side of the fire.

Nishinoya whips around, having temporarily forgotten what had him so entranced only moments ago.

But the log once shared by the freak duo is empty.

Kageyama and Hinata are gone.

 

* * *

 

**Five minutes earlier**

 

Hinata makes the slow trek back to the house on stiff, shaky legs; _‘bathroom’_ he’s fairly certain he squeaked out before turning his back to the fire with his hand still pressed against the side of his face, or perhaps he said absolutely nothing. Though it’s just as likely that he screamed _‘OKAY BYE’_ before staggering away.

Actually, yeah, that’s probably more like what happened.

But, to be honest, he sort of blacked out the second Kageyama’s fingers brushed against cheek.

His arms feel like jelly when he slides the glass door shut behind him in the lively kitchen, but the music thumping from speakers somewhere sounds warped, slowed and muted. Loud voices far away and fuzzy, drowned out by the sound of his thrashing heart pumping the blood rushing around in his ringing ears as he sinks unsteadily into a kitchen chair. He sits, blinking down at the wood of the table, eyes unseeing while his fingers play again at the corner of his tingling mouth.

 _Breathe, Shouyou._ He has to tell himself. _Keep breathing._

Because he knows, _knows_ that Kageyama is completely ignorant to what just happened – what he just _did_ to Hinata. He’s drunk…he’s just drunk. That’s all.

He _knows_ this. So he _has_ to calm down.

 _So_ much easier said than done; he can still feel the firm, yet so gentle press of Kageyama’s thumb against his lip, see the warmth in his eyes when he turned back to the fire.

The hours spent dreaming about the feel of those fingers against his lips cannot compare to the half-second of actual contact—

Okay, no, it definitely _can_ because in his dreams he’s alone in his bed, and his lips are _around_ those fingers and Kageyama’s eyes are dark and full of longing as he takes them deeper, rolling his tongue over them suggestively, exhibiting promises of things to come.

And being alone in his bed those fingers can coil around him, push slowly into him, fill him.

And they certainly aren’t wiping chocolate off his face like he’s a goddamn child!

But if he thinks again about the way Kageyama licked the chocolate off his thumb he might pass out.

Or run into the bathroom to jerk off. Neither option sounds particularly appealing right now.

That’s a lie.

“Hey, Hinata.” A quiet voice says as Yuu pulls out the chair beside him, turning it to face Hinata before settling into it. “How’s…um…how’s your knee?”

“My…my what?” Hinata shakes himself and looks to his concerned teammate. “Huh?”

“Your knee,” Yuu repeats into his cup, taking a self-conscious sip of his drink, “From before.”

“Oh…it’s…it’s fine!” He says, breaking into toothy grin. “What are you drinking?”

“Mm, it’s just coke.” Yuu says. “Are you alright? You look kind of…red.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Hinata presses his cool hands to his flushed face. His heart rate is starting to slow, and hopefully his face will soon match. Hey, even his hands have stopped trembling, “Just a little too warm from the fire, I guess.”

But then he jolts at the sound of the door sliding open and his heart ends up back in his throat as Kageyama slips inside.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Yuu asks hopefully, while Hinata watches the setter warily as he visually sweeps the room. “Something to drink?”

“Beer.” Hinata mumbles when blue, bloodshot eyes briefly meet his, only to dart quickly to the boy sitting next to him before Kageyama frowns and then weaves his way out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Beer?” Yuu repeats in question.

“Please.” It comes out much more strained than Hinata anticipated, but his point has been made.

It doesn’t even register that Yuu had moved until the cold bottle is in his hand, the cap removed and everything, as he had been staring blankly at the doorway from which Kageyama exited, either anxiously awaiting his setter’s return or dreading the thought of it.

Who is he kidding?

He takes a deep breath and lifts the bottle to his lips, forcing the first sip down past the need to gag on the taste, swallowing back that flitter of hope dancing amidst the crackle of carbonation simmering in his chest. He lowers the bottle and coughs sharply into his hand, and goes for it again, slapping his palm on the table as he struggles through gulp after gulp of the bitter alcohol, screwing his watering eyes shut.

He gets through about half of the bottle before he feels a tentative hand against the fingers gripping tightly around the bottle. He lowers it with a shuddering gasp of breath and cracks his eyes to see Yuu’s face, wound taut with concern.

“Hey…” Yuu says softly, jumping at the shrill clatter of glass on wood as Hinata lets his hand drop out of his. “Is everything alright?”

“Of—course!” Hinata insists, chest heaving and eyes still pricked with tears. “Why wouldn’t—it be!?” He barks out a crazy, humorless laugh, tilting the bottle to his mouth again.

“Hinata!” Yuu yells, grabbing at the beer, clearly a little startled at his own abrupt action as he looks in alarm at the bottle now in his own hand. “Slow down!” He says anyway.

Brown eyes flash at the obstacle now in his path to… _whatever_ he’s trying to accomplish, and he suppresses the urge to tackle the first year to the ground. “Yuu…” He says through grit teeth, chair screeching across the floor as he rises to his feet and, in his best Kageyama impression, looms over the now-terrified, wide-eyed boy, “I’d like that back, please.”

“N-no.” Yuu stammers courageously, hiding the beer behind his back where he sits, “You’re going to get sick!”

Hinata narrows his eyes and leans down, placing his hands on the arm rests on either side of Yuu and stopping when his face is a few inches from his. “Well…then,” He speaks slowly, reveling in the horror-stricken eyes looking back at him, “I suppose I’ll just have to…get another one!” He finishes cheerfully, straightening up.

“No, wait!” Yuu cries, catching Hinata around the wrist as the redhead turns towards the fridge. He tugs him back just a little too hard, yanking the smaller boy directly into his lap.

Hinata breathes out steadily though his nose and folds his arms across his chest, looking sideways up at the first year and leaning back against one of the arm rests. “This what you wanted, Yuu?”

No, it’s definitely not. Poor Yuu looks to be trapped halfway between wanting to dump Hinata onto the floor and burst into flames. Hinata sighs and gets to his feet, snatching the beer from Yuu’s limp fingers and dropping back into his chair.

“Thanks.” Hinata mutters, taking a tiny, disgruntled sip.

It takes a few minutes for Yuu’s face to return to a normal, healthy color, in which time Hinata has polished off his beer and retrieved a second one. He twists off the cap and plunks it onto the table in front of Yuu with a snarky, triumphant little grin.

His eyes drift aimlessly around the kitchen while he re-acclimates to the grossness of the thing he’s drinking, gaze lingering involuntarily on the faces of Kageyama’s assailants from earlier, the two girls drunkenly and _loudly_ chatting away in the corner.

Their current topic at hand? It appears to be…interestingly enough, Kageyama.

 Hinata narrows his eyes, the little hairs on the back of his neck prickling.

“So uh…Hinata,” Yuu says, smiling shyly and fingers playing against the edge of his cup, “I was…um,” He clears his throat, “Wondering—“

“Wait! Shh!” Hinata whispers frantically, waving his hand in Yuu’s face and honing in on the conversation across the kitchen. Yuu blinks and turns, following Hinata’s line of sight.

“…’s, like, the perfect height. But I think it’s something about his eyes…so like, mysterious. Is he drinking? He’s one of the volleyball guys, right?”

“Mmhm…he definitely looks like an athlete, too. Ugh, I bet he has such a fantastic body…did you see his _hands!?”_

Hinata snorts out an angry breath through his nose, _Those are_ my  _hands!_ He fumes, rising to his feet and planting his palms on the table.

“ _So_ , big, right? I’ve always had a thing for guys with big hands…I bet….” Blonde ponytail leans into short skirt and whispers something, immediately dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“You skank!” Skirt laughs, “I think I saw him come back in from outside…you think he’d be into it if—“

“HEY!” Hinata shouts across the kitchen. Conversations immediately cease and all eyes snap to the seething little redhead, a knee up on the chair like he’s about to climb onto he table. The two girls regard him with wide eyes before looking around at the others to find the source of his anger. “No, I’m talking to YOU TWO!” Hinata points aggressively at the girls, who exchange confused, startled glances. “What are you, thirty!?” Hinata shrieks, “He’s _SIXTEEN_ you…you…PEDOPHILES!” He ends with a snarl, hopping back onto the floor. “Come on, Yuu,” He snatches up his beer with a huff, “Let’s get out of here before we get preyed upon.”

And with that he turns on his heel, stomping his way to the glass door and flinging it open, hoping really hard that Yuu is actually following behind, so that at least maybe the boy will slide the door shut.

What? Dramatic exits are important, but leaving doors ajar is just plain rude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I need a beta. If ANYTHING is worded in a way that makes no sense, PLEASE let me know. I am very. tired.
> 
> So the brilliant caqqucino has given me life _again_ with [the CUTEST artwork ever based on the bonfire scene and...just...it's so precious I'm at a complete loss.](https://caqqucino.tumblr.com/post/155574333557/but-when-kageyama-reaches-out-a-hand-slowly)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been hell so here's this thing :D
> 
> It's been nice knowing you guys...please...be gentle with me.

“Hinata! Wait!” Yuu calls, chasing him out onto the deck.

Hinata does not wait.

Stomping down the steps and to the grass he feels energized, electrified, and savage as hell. He takes a victory chug of his beer and wipes his mouth on his sleeve and considers chucking the bottle into the bushes like the badass that he quite obviously is.

“Can you believe those perverts!?” Hinata stops abruptly and rounds on Yuu, eyes flashing and a storm roiling dangerously beneath his skin, “Disgusting! They think that just because they are…are old and…girls they can just say whatever the hell they want about whoever without even--“

“What happened!?” Yuu cries, making to possibly try to grab the furious Hinata by the shoulder, but Yuu resists.

“Did you not hear them!?” Hinata hisses, ignoring the stunted gesture and waving his hands toward the house. There are still a few shocked faces watching Hinata’s anger persist through the glass door, but Hinata couldn’t care less – this indicated by a loud and furious:

“What are you looking at!?”

He turns sharply again towards the light of the fire and stalks off with a huff. “How dare they talk about Kageyama like he’s some object. The _nerve!_ “

“Wait, Kageyama?” Yuu asks, jogging to catch up, “Weren’t they talking about—“

“Obviously!” Hinata snaps, then burps behind his hand, “You should have seen them earlier! It looked like they were about to—“

“Wait…I thought,” Yuu interrupts, “They were talking about Asahi…” He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as they make their way across the lawn.

Hinata stops walking.

“Asahi?” He asks blankly towards the fire, hiccupping.

“Um…well yeah…didn’t…well with the comment about his hair, and all. I thought it was kind of obvious.”

“Hair?” Hinata deadpans, turning slowly towards the other, “I didn’t hear them say anything about…hair.”

Hinata swallows awkwardly, eyes shifting to the house as the initial drag of anxiety crawls into the pit of his stomach like a worm. But he shakes his head and stomps his foot resolutely.

“But the thing about his hands!” Hinata hisses, “They said that they were…and that he’s tall, Yuu!”

“Doesn’t Asahi…have…hands?” Yuu asks uncomfortably.

Hinata blinks; his arms drop to hang limply at his sides at the realization and the cruel burn of shame starting to snake its way into his chest, charring his confidence to a blackened mass of tangled dread. Funny how fast that electricity turned on him.

“I…oh,” Hinata says, voice dropping to barely a whisper. His eyes are wide when he looks back at Yuu. “Oh no…I…did I just…”

“Yeah…”

Hinata takes a slow, horror-stricken sip of beer.

“Why did you just assume that they meant…that it was Kageyama?” Yuu asks.

“They…before…they were all over him.” Hinata answers slowly, absently picking at the label on the bottle, eyes still on the house.

“They’ve sort of been all over everyone,” Yuu says, following Hinata’s gaze, “From what I’ve seen, anyway.”

Hinata’s face snaps forward again.

“Everyone!?” He cries, clutching his chest, aghast, “W-well then that’s even worse than if they— _hic_ —those _floozies_!”

“Floozies?”

“Yeah!” Hinata is feeling heated again. He’s going to hate these girls if it kills him, “Who do they think they are!? Acting like they’re all interested in Kageyama and then just moving on to their next victim as if Kageyama is just some kind of disposable—“

Yuu just stares blankly at Hinata as he waves his beer crazily towards the house.

“—using him as some type of… _conquest_ or something and acting like he’s some worthless piece of trash, some kind of passing…uh, _amusement_ , some _prize_ to stow on their harlot shelf and anything less than the incredible and talented—“

“So, wait,” Yuu interjects, “You’re mad that…so, you want them…you want them to want him, then? I’m…confused.”

“So am I!” Hinata yells, face on fire while he downs the rest of his beer – which isn’t difficult as most of it spilled in all the melodrama.

“Hey! Guys!”

Hinata and Yuu turn to see Yamaguchi jogging up, a little unsteadily with liquid sloshing out of a cup.

“Hey,” He repeats with a grin, “We were all just talking about playing a game.”

“Oh! What kind of game!” Hinata asks with forced excitement, burping once more and happy for the distraction from the sucking black hole of humiliation threatening to carry him off into the atmosphere.

“Kiyoko brought these glow sticks and thought it would be fun to—Kageyama?”

The redhead’s heart flutters and he whips around to where Yamaguchi is looking past him, and there, indeed, is Kageyama, sneaking along the fence with his hood up and a water bottle shielding his face. He freezes.

“What are you doing?” Yamaguchi asks, cocking his head.

“Just…um…” Kageyama lowers the bottle and sniffs, “I didn’t want to interrupt. Those two. Them.” He speaks lowly, waving his hand vaguely in their direction.

Yamaguchi looks pointedly back and forth between Yuu and Hinata, his freckled face pinched with concern. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No!” Yuu blurts out.

Hinata shakes his head slowly, trying to take a cool, casual sip from his empty bottle. He quickly hides it behind his back in embarrassment and swallows the sip that didn't happen.

“Did you…uh, hear anything?” He asks in exaggerated nonchalance in Kageyama’s direction.

Kageyama isn't looking at him, but even in the dark Hinata can see a scowl. “No. Why would I be listening to your stupid conversation.” He doesn't quite ask, eyes moving to glance at Yuu.

 _Oh good. This again_. Hinata thinks with a mental eye roll. Or maybe he did it for real. Who knows.

“Okay well, so we were thinking about playing—oh my god, will you come over here!?” Yamaguchi yells at the lurking Kageyama.

The setter hesitates, blinking towards the fire, but then he sighs in defeat and walks slowly towards them with shoulders hunched.

“So what game?” Hinata asks, face radiating heat when Kageyama sidles up next to him.

BREATHE.

“Spin the bottle.” Yamaguchi replies with a sly smile aimed at Kageyama.

The plastically crinkle of a water bottle clutched tight in a fist can barely be heard over a frantic, two-way cry of,

“What!?”

Yamaguchi takes a startled step backwards and hold up his hands, eyes snapping from frozen Kageyama to instead jump rapidly from Yuu to Hinata, face falling. “Shit, guys. I was just joking…s-sorry.”

“Heh heh!—so, uh what is it really?” Hinata asks too shrilly to drown out the sound of his erratic heartbeat which he’s starting to think that Kageyama can actually hear, what with the way he’s steadily watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Capture the flag.” Yamaguchi replies.

“In the dark?” Kageyama asks before cracking open the bottle and drinking deeply. Hinata catches himself peeking at the movement of his throat around the water. He bites his lip and whines softly.

“Well with the glow sticks as the flags it should be doable. I guess they’ve played that way at her college.” Yamaguchi explains, smirking at Hinata. “We can tie them to sticks or something.”

“W-water bottles,” Hinata says with an awkward swallow, tearing his gaze from Kageyama, “We can put them in empty water bottles!”

“Mm,” The setter hums, lowering a now-empty bottle and tossing it to Yamaguchi, “Start with this one. I’ll get started on another.”

He steps back from the group, a little wobbly, but then long fingers circle around Hinata’s bicep, and Hinata goes rigid.

“Make sure I’m on your team.” Kageyama leans down to whisper a little too airily into Hinata’s ear before releasing him, jamming his hands into his pockets as he heads back into the house.

Yamaguchi arches a brow inquisitively as goosebumps race across Hinata’s skin, and he can’t manage to overcome the full body shiver that tears blazing up his spine. The empty bottle slips from his useless fingers and into the grass.

“What did he say to you?” Yuu asks with trepidation, watching Hinata try to covertly struggle for air. It’s kind of hard to hide the flames in his face, though, he imagines.

“I think,” Hinata says flatly, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering again, “He’s trying to kill me.”

Yuu and Yamaguchi exchange puzzled looks.

“Is that what he said?” The second year asks, “That he’s going to kill you?”

Hinata blinks towards the house; somewhat of a dizzy, blurred blink that doesn’t quite clear his vision. So he blinks again.

“N-no,” Hinata says, brows furrowing, “That’s not…” He shakes his head sharply and drops his arms, breaking into a wavering smile, “He said he wants to be on my team. T-that’s all.”

Yamaguchi isn’t convinced; he raises his chin and looks at the redhead down his nose. “Uh huh. He had to whisper that to you?”

 _‘Stop trying to look like Tsukishima!’_ Hinata wants to say, but doesn't. Instead he shrugs, going for casual, but knowing damn well that it comes off as labored and jerky.

“Guess so. So!” Hinata claps his hands, “What are the teams?”

“I’m going to go see who else wants to play, and I’ll meet you back at the fire and we can decide.” Yamaguchi answers, his face softening, stepping past the other two. “But don’t worry,” He looks back over his shoulder flirtatiously, “The king will be with his queen.” And with that, he takes off towards the bright house, snickering into his drink.

It takes Hinata a couple of seconds, but finally he wrinkles his nose and looks at Yuu to ask,

“Queen?”

Yuu just shrugs.

* * *

  
Hinata is possibly

Maybe

Sort of

Just a little bit

…

Drunk

He can't really describe it.

But it’s a vague, floaty, far away feeling, where everything seems only slightly muddled. It’s nothing like he’s seen in movies; he’s not stumbling, he’s not slurring. He’s definitely not throwing himself at anything with a pulse and a dick and deep, ocean blue eyes and silky black hair and calloused, sturdy hands that could so easily shove him roughly to the ground or against a wall or down onto a bed, or one-handedly hold his wrists in place while he pretends to struggle feebly while the other or wraps firmly around—

 _Not yet, anyway_. He reminds himself with a clear of his throat. He squirms.

But, no, he doesn’t feel sloppy or out of control. He definitely doesn't feel worried about any potentially disastrous behavior of his.

It’s just that, now, jokes seem a little bit funnier, the fire toastier and the flames more vibrant, and it’s so easy to appreciate the haze of smoke curling up into the starry sky– he's kind of been staring at it. And Kageyama, beside him on the log, is really close. And he’s really warm.

And he realizes, with moderate surprise, as lidded brown eyes drop from the speckled sky to Kageyama’s lips wrapped around his third water bottle in fifteen minutes, that the ever-present ache deep in his chest is…missing.

His hand reflexively twists into his hoodie above his heart.

He notes the strangeness, the unfamiliarity of it, sort of like how when he lost a tooth as a kid, how his tongue kept poking into the hole where there once was this sharp, troublesome chunk of enamel tearing painfully into his shredded gum and making it impossible to eat things like, well, anything. He remembers crying softly at night over the discomfort and yet being totally unwilling to rip it out despite the constant goading from his friends, for fear that the momentary pain would be unbearable. But then, once it was gone – following some ball to the face accident or over-zealous potato chip munching – he didn't really feel much relief. He’d still find himself seeking out the bothersome tooth with his tongue, wanting to feel the bite of the sharp edge sink into his gum, just because it was familiar, but instead be met with a boring, empty hole.

Maybe the Heartache Fairy will leave a quarter under his pillow tonight.

No. That's stupid.

The…Agony Fairy. Misery Fairy? Unrequited Love Fairy!

Well no; the loss of unrequited love would mean, what? Requited love? And that is quite obviously not the case.

Yeah, he knows it’s just the alcohol making him feel this way – alleviating his pain. After all, it’s the only thing that’s been different this entire night – the only variable that’s changed in anyway.

Hell, even Kageyama’s weird behavior is the same as it’s been the past few weeks. The bodily contact, the lingering glances, the over-attentiveness.

 _“He touches you all the time_.”

_Wait._

Kageyama’s behavior. Is the same.

As it's been.

Kageyama always acts like this.

_Wait._

Hinata’s breath catches and blinks up at the setter.

_Whoa._

“’Whoa’ what?” Kageyama asks, half-lidded, bloodshot eyes meeting Hinata’s wide-eyed gaze as he takes a break from chugging water, wiping his mouth slowly with his sleeve.

“I didn’t…say anything.” Hinata breathes, his heart a panicked bird caged in his ribs.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kageyama asks, scowling. It’s so totally forced.

_It's the same._

No.

No. He will not be seduced by this fleeting change in perspective. Alcohol is bad. It’s BAD. And it’s making him think…things!

 _Wrong_ things! Things that will end inevitably in heartbreak for him if he continues to think them.

“I think…” Hinata says slowly, dry mouthed, eyes fixed on Kageyama’s lips, “I might be a little…tipsy.”

“You—wait, what!?” Kageyama blanches, “How!?”

“How do you think?” It’s an oddly toned whisper of a question. He should stop whispering, “Idiot.” He adds awkwardly, still too hushed for comfort.

“You…had, what? _One_ shot almost two hours ago!?”

“I had beer,” Hinata folds his arms across his chest proudly, overcompensating with volume, “Two…ish, in fact.”

“When!?” Dark brows furrow suspiciously over…god, really really red eyes.

“In the…house?” Hinata answers with another quiet question, licking his lips, staring at Kageyama’s mouth. He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes and slamming his hands onto the log on either side of him, glaring up, “Why are you so pissy about it!?”

“I am not being pissy,” Kageyama bites, totally pissy, “You had two beers—“

“Two ish!”

“—in less than ten minutes!?”

“No!” Hinata recoils at himself, then frowns, “Well…maybe.”

Kageyama sighs loudly and steadily through his nose, searching Hinata’s face for something. Inspecting him, brow furrowed and looking rather…scared.

“What—“

“You,” Kageyama snaps, shoving his water into Hinata’s chest with a wrongly placed clear of his throat and rising to his feet, “Are an idiot.”

“Wait—Kageyama!” Hinata hisses, fumbling the bottle in his hands as Kageyama stalks unsteadily towards the house, “What—“

“Just stay there!” He barks without looking back, “I’m getting you more water. Fucking…god, fucking dumbass.”

“Ah—o-oh.” Hinata stammers at Kageyama’s retreating back. “That’s…nice of you…” He finishes with a mumble, turning back to the fire.

He sits drinking the water in silence, zoned out of the happily chattering voices around him and staring blankly into the flames, occasionally running his tongue stealthily along the mouth of the bottle and…thinking.

He should…stop. He should stop thinking.

 _It’s the alcohol. Just the alcohol._ He repeats to himself. _Kageyama is the same as always. But that doesn’t mean he’s…he’s not…there’s nothing different. But then that means…FUCK._

He grabs at his chest again, roughly gripping at the absence of torment. He feels lighter without it, totally unburdened. Gosh, it’s even easier to breath. But that means…

No wall.

There’s no barrier. That means there’s nothing to block the violent outpouring of…of hope.

And even if these glowing embers of vigorous optimism are foreign, some sort of alien treasure unearthed by this drug-induced shift in mentality, tempting his itchy, greedy fingers and his even more ravenous heart, he isn’t so completely muddled to have forgotten that fire burns.

No, he’s not.

And this is somehow even more cruel. It’s like watching part of himself dangle the sweetest fruit just beyond his reach, ever promising _‘just a little farther!’_ , yet the whole of him continues to starve and the part of him promising salvation knows he’ll never yield to the hunger – merciless and sadistic.

Too many metaphors, he knows. But his feelings are complex, alright?

So complex that he finds himself longing to feel the ache again. Because at least that's easily understood.

“Come back…” He whispers softly, eyes staring ahead and fingertips digging against his chest.

“Are we playing a game or what?” Tanaka asks loudly, his hands on his hips where he stands on the other side of the fire.

“Yeah!” Yamaguchi says from behind Hinata, jogging up to the fire with Tsukishima, Yachi, and Ennoshita, “This should be everyone. Where’s Kageyama?”

“He’s—“

“Here.” Hinata starts when Kageyama also comes up behind them, sticking a fresh water bottle over Hinata’s shoulder.

Hinata swallows and reaches for it hesitantly, suspiciously, meeting Kageyama’s measured gaze. “Why?” He hears himself ask stupidly.

Kageyama scowls. “Usually people say ‘thank you’.”

Hinata bristles. “What if I don’t want it!?”

And then a strange, desperate expression darkens Kageyama’s face and his shoulders drop before he says quietly,

“Please just drink it.”

“Guys?” Yamaguchi says, waving hesitantly, “Are we playing?”

“Yes,” Kageyama says, the scowl returning immediately to his face. Sort of. He’s definitely _trying_ to scowl, he just looks a little…panicked. “What are the teams?”

“…eight, nine, ten,” Tanaka counts the willing players around the fire, “Even teams of five, awesome. Alright so…how should we do this?”

“I’m with Kageyama!” Hinata says (yells).

His face burns immediately and he stuffs the water bottle into his mouth. He sheepishly lowers it with his eyes on the ground and uncaps it, bringing it back to his lips and taking a large, difficult gulp. Then another. Then another.

“Yes,” Tanaka snorts out a laugh, “We know. How about second years versus…non-second years? That’s five on five. So Yuu times two, Kiyoko, and Ennoshita are with me. Then it’s you guys,” he finishes, gesturing toward the second years.

“I have to be with them?” Tsukishima asks, eyeing Kageyama. Though strangely enough, he’s smirking about it.

“You get to be with us, you mean!” Hinata says, wiping his dripping mouth and pointing at the tall blond, jumping to his feet, “And you’re going down!”

Several pairs of eyes regard the preciously confused, tipsy little redhead.

“Anyway,” Tanaka claps his hands together, “Boundaries are…my team has the backyard, not including the woods. Team second-year has the front yard not including the street. The center windows on either side of the house are the borders, so anyone in the other’s territory can be tagged and taken to jail.”

“Oh, oh!” Hinata says, waving his hand high in the air, “What is jail!?”

“This isn’t school, dumbass.” Kageyama says, swatting Hinata in the back of the head.

“Jail is…” Tanaka taps his chin, surveying the area, “For us it will be…the tool shed. For you guys it can be—”

“I-I object to that!” Kageyama says quickly, raising his own hand.

“This isn’t a courtroom, _dumbass_.” Hinata mimics, jumping to hit Kageyama in the back of the head. The setter dodges and catches Hinata’s wrist.

“Well, then don’t get caught,” Tanaka says to Kageyama with a sly grin, “Your jail can be the porch.”

“Sounds—ugh, let go!—“ Hinata hisses, wrenching his arm away from Kageyama, “Sounds good to me!”

“And how do we get out of jail?” Kageyama asks nervously.

“Another member of your team has to come get you without getting caught.” Tanaka explains.

“Can—,” Kageyama swallows strangely, “There be more than one person in jail at a time?”

“Huh?” Tanaka screws up his face, “Of course there can.”

“We can keep the door open, right? To the tool shed? S-so it’s fair? You aren't planning to lock us in, right?”

Hinata giggles behind his fingers. “Is Tobio scared of the dark?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He snaps dangerously, glaring down at Hinata with crazy eyes.

“Alright, let’s do this!” Tanaka tosses one of the glow stick-stuffed bottles at Kageyama and the other to Kiyoko, “We have five minutes from this second to place our flags and then the game will start. Whether you’re ready or not! Now go!”

“Go!” Hinata repeats, cheering excitedly and throwing up his hands, spinning around to dash toward the front yard and forgetting completely about the huge fucking log he was just sitting on.

He yelps as he pitches forward; the dark ground rushing up towards his face while his arms flail out to the sides uselessly, his empty water bottle dropping to the grass as he prepares for a painful impact.

That is until Kageyama’s arm shoots out, catlike, and catches him around the chest.

“Idiot.” The setter mutters, tipping Hinata upright with one arm before turning to follow the rest of their team across the grass without a glance back.

Hinata blinks rapidly, his heart positively soaring in adoring gratitude as he runs to catch up.

“How did you do that?” He asks, staring up at Kageyama in awe and matching his pace.  
“‘s like you knew I was about to fall!”

Blue eyes flicker down to meet brown as they jog around the shadowed corner of the house, “You think I don’t know you by now?”

Hinata looks away, snorting arrogantly. “You don’t know me that well.”

“Yes I do.” Kageyama argues easily.

Hinata scoffs, stopping once they emerge onto the front lawn. “Well, I think you’d be surprised.”

Kageyama stops as well and whips around at a startling speed and takes two ominous steps towards his teammate. “Is this a game you really want to play right now?”

That crazed look is back in his eyes again and Hinata feels the uncontrollable urge to cower.

He controls it all the same, sticking his hands to his hips and raising his chin toward Kageyama’s face. “Yeah! Maybe I do!”

Kageyama takes one final step forward and winds his fist into Hinata’s shirt yanking him forward. “You honestly think that I—“

“Hey, guys, want to put it in here?” Yachi calls, pointing into the open mailbox.

“Doesn’t it have to be within immediate sight?” Yamaguchi asks.

Hinata blinks into Kageyama’s wild gaze, small hand closing around the one stuffed in his sweatshirt, his heart throbbing out of control at the other’s proximity.

“I-I didn’t hear that rule!” Hinata says into Kageyama’s face, yanking the setter’s hand off before snatching the bottle out of his other and taking off in the direction of the mailbox, “If we leave it open then technically the mailbox is fair game, right?“

“But then they would have to be in the street to see it, and that’s out of bounds.” Yamaguchi reminds him.

“Well that’s their problem, then!” Hinata insists.

“We could just duct tape it to Hinata, that way Kageyama won’t let anyone near it.” Tsukishima says, bored.

“Okay yeah why don’t you find some tape and we’ll wait here.” Kageyama sneers.

“Guys, let’s just put it in the flower bed,” Yamaguchi says, pointing towards the house at a long strip of barren earth. “That way whoever plays defense can hide close to it in the bushes.”

“Good idea!” Hinata cheers, scampering off to plunk the bottle into a mound of dirt, “Who’s on defense, anyway?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Well,” Yachi says, “You and Kageyama are the fastest—”

“I’m fastest!” Hinata exclaims, smacking dirt from his palms as he rejoins the group.

“Sprinting, yeah!” Kageyama snaps immediately, “But I kill you in long distance!”

“Oh! Well pardon me, but last I checked the other team’s flag wasn’t in Zimbabwe!”

“I don’t even know where that is!”

“Neither do I!”

“So,” Yachi says with a roll of her eyes, “They should be on offense, right?”

“I’ll do defense,” Yamaguchi volunteers.

“I will, too.” Yachi says. “Tsukishima?”

“Offense.”

“Oh good. No one will see the giraffe skulking around the bushes.” Kageyama mutters.

“Oh my god.” Yachi says, throwing up her hands, “I’m heading to my post. You guys do what you want.”

Yamaguchi follows after her and Tsukishima leaves for the far side of the house with a smug, “Good luck kids. Don’t get caught~”

“I’m not rescuing him if he gets sent to jail.” Kageyama mutters to Hinata.

“But…you’ll rescue me, right?” Hinata asks hesitantly after a few seconds while they watch their teammates depart, “Cause I’ll save you!”

Hinata retrains his eyes on the setter when he sighs in lieu of an answer. The sharp scowl aimed towards Tsukishima has reformed into something far more apprehensive, almost fearful; the skin between his dark brows creased – not like that’s anything new – but instead of conveying irritation, it communicates something much more defenseless, his eyes look glazed, clouded with vulnerability, and Hinata feels his breath catch.

But then it's gone.

“Just don't get caught, dumbass.” He snaps, turning away and walking back towards the side of the house.

Hinata fights back the impending _‘no, you don't get caught!’_ Because that's not going to accomplish anything with Kageyama already hidden in the shadows, and plus he's feeling just a little out of breath.

He fidgets, now, seemingly alone in the front yard with his teammates out of sight, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Unsure of how much time is left before the game starts, he warily eyes the wooden fence lining the property, garnished sporadically with well-manicured bushes. He chews his lip in thought, and then decides that there was no mention of the fence acting as a border and dashes over to it, hopping up easily to catch the wooden slats ending just above his head and swings himself over to the other side.

His landing is less than graceful (strictly an effect of the alcohol, he reasons) and he finds himself too late in worrying about whether the neighbors have a dog, but he crawls his way along the edge of the fence anyway, wincing at his long-forgotten injury from the tree incident, yet all the while still managing to silently pat himself on the back for his present resourcefulness. Or rule-breaking. Whichever.

He's easily able to measure his distance behind enemy lines with the glow of the bonfire visible between the pickets, as is Yuu crouched down at the tree line and Nishinoya pressed against the back of the tool shed, peeking out towards the back of the house; as is the bright glow of their flag posted on a camping chair in the dead center of the yard (ha ha, suckers), as is—

_“Gah!”_

—not the decorative, and quite fortunately shallow, pond that he just stuck half his arm into.

“Goddammit,” He mutters, shaking his dripping sleeve and spraying himself in the face with most of the freezing runoff, which is actually rather soothing to his beer-flushed skin despite the bite of the chilly November air.

He blows out an agitated breath and climbs carefully to his feet. Backtracking several silent steps, he finds a bush on the other side of the fence shrouded in the shadow of the house and hoists himself up and over to drop carefully behind it.

He flattens himself against the ground and slithers his way beneath the branches to peek out at his dark surroundings, eyes passing over some tall bushes against the side of the house directly in front of him and then back to Yuu, the first year suddenly leaping to his feet, eyes pointed towards something Hinata can’t see, but he doesn't move any further than that.

 _Bet it's Tsukishima_. Hinata thinks. _Kageyama wouldn't let himself be seen so easily._ Then he snickers into his hand.

Poor Kageyama is afraid of the dark.

He spends several seconds laughing to himself in light of this new discovery, until his amusement tapers off to something akin to mild confusion.

_Wait._

Okay yeah there is no way that Kageyama is afraid of the dark.

He frowns. _What the hell is his problem, then_?

When Yuu takes a sharp step forward, Hinata’s heart flutters in anticipation and he licks his lips excitedly.

 _It's just that he's competitive._ Hinata decides. Obviously. He doesn’t like the thought of getting caught because that might lead to a loss.

Right.

He chews the inside of his cheek.

 

No. That doesn’t seem right at all.

He shifts to his knees in the confined space of the bush, cringing at the rustle of sharp branches against his face. But his heart flutters again, and not because of the game.

_Shit._

Hinata looks down at his hands, palms flat in the dirt. He flexes his fingers – his last ditch, almost literal, effort to keep himself grounded. Because there it is again.

_Hope._

It unfurls, ribbon-like, unspooling to flutter freely about inside him, welling up in his chest and threading like warm silk through his veins.

A slow blink reminds him of gentle fingers combing through his hair or curling around his own hand, soft fingertips against his face, his leg, and not so long but seemingly forever ago the comforting press of the setter’s body so briefly wrapped around his own as he awoke after a cold, tearful sleep.

A slow, wavering exhale recalls dark blue eyes that find him on the court or in the hallways or here, tonight, watchful and familiar and…and what?

No, not ‘what’ – he knows that look all too well. He owns that look. The same one he feels in his own eyes when he's lost in affection or desire for his setter.

He shakes his head.

No. No, he's wrong.

He knows he's wrong but still the hope surges on, this illusion, coiling through him menacingly and cruelly, pricking goosebumps along his hot skin as he desperately counters it with reason and floundering sanity. It’s mercilessly winding around to the back of his neck, tickling along his hair—

Wait. That's not right.

“ _WAHH_ —SPIDERS!”

He explodes from the underbrush with a shriek, rolling from his knees and leaping to his feet while pawing frantically at his hair as he staggers around, shaking his head crazily in utter panic. He stumbles forward into the branches of the hedges along the house and shrieks again, swiping now at both his itching face and the back of his head. That is until:

“Dumbass! What the fuck are you doing!?”

He freezes with his hands in his hair and raises his eyes to the familiar hiss coming from the bushes in front of him, and less than three feet in front of him within the branches are two glaring eyes, piercing the shadowy gloom at the corner of the house.

“Um…” Hinata starts intelligently, “Spiders?”

Kageyama blinks and shoves a branch out of his face. “What!?” He yell-whispers.

For some reason completely unbeknownst to either of them, Hinata takes great offense to this and stomps the short distance over to stand directly in front of his teammate, little fists balled at his sides and nostrils flaring in anger.

“Spiders!” He hisses furiously, as if that's any sort of adequate explanation, “Bush spiders! In my hair! Crawling all over me and laying their bush eggs—“

“Since when are you afraid of spiders?“

“Well I don't want them in my--”

“…….thought I heard something over here.” They hear suddenly. Hinata freezes, eyes widening in alarm.

There’s a quiet rustling of leaves before Kageyama winds his fist into Hinata’s shirt and wrenches him forward through the foliage. he spins the small body around and Hinata’s back crashes against his chest while Kageyama’s hand claps over Hinata’s open mouth, muffling a sharp cry of shock.

 

 

 

Hinata squirms against him until Kageyama plants his hand firmly against the wiggly boy’s chest, long fingers splaying out over his ribcage to get him to still. Hinata does, indeed, stop moving and lets out a muted grunt of protest.

“Shhh. Shut up, dumbass.” Kageyama hisses quietly, shoving himself back against the side of the house, tugging Hinata with him. But then he frowns, “Why are you wet?”

Hinata doesn't answer this, and he instead emits a wordless little grumble into Kageyama’s hand.

And then slowly, hazily, as if stepping his way through a dense fog, with the ever-increasing rapidity of Hinata’s racing heart beneath his fingers, Kageyama realizes with mild horror what he just did to them.

His fingers twitch with terror over the soft and somewhat damp fabric of Hinata’s sweatshirt, and he can now feel the crazed hammering of his own heart pressed firmly against Hinata’s back, spurred on by the little puffs of warm breath through parted lips against his palm.

He can feel Hinata swallow thickly, and Kageyama does the same.

Shit.

His body floods instantly with heat, the warmth of the little fireball pressed against him only magnifing the smoldering inside of himself. He feels his breath quicken.

And yet he tightens his hold.

“I swear I heard something over here.” They hear Kiyoko whisper to some unseen enemy.

_SHIT!_

If they’re seen, they’re caught, and the last thing he needs right now is to be shoved into some cramped dark space with the guy he’s been fantasizing about kissing all goddamn night, with his sobriety plodding along at a staggering ‘does not exist’ (though the several bottles of water seem to have helped at least somewhat…well, they must have, because he has managed to abstain thus far from slamming poor Hinata up against the cold siding of the house, emphasis on the ‘thus far’) and with Hinata a flushed, tipsy little mess there is absolutely no way he wouldn’t…

Well.

Actually.

It’s not like their present situation is much better, now that he thinks about it.

And he’s definitely…thinking about it.

Hinata goes rigid against him when two dark bodies come into view a mere few feet in front of them. His thin shoulders push back into Kageyama’s chest and warm little fingers tap tentatively at Kageyama’s shaking hand, still pressed over lips parted around clipped, anxious exhales.

Digging desperately, Kageyama delves within himself to drag up the last remaining shred of irritation he holds for the idiot to distract himself from every point of shared bodily contact, from how perfect Hinata feels against him again, from how badly he’s wanted this, dreamt about it, fantasized about and hoped for it…

from the little whimpered gasp of fear muffled by Kageyama’s palm, that lights a fire low in his abdomen.

Because…because Hinata is always so goddamn loud! That’s it! Little fucker. Doesn't he know this is a game!? He might as well be screaming into a megaphone. Waving a flag!

He should tell him to shut up – that they’re going to get caught if he doesn’t quiet the fuck down with his…um...

Breathing.

“Shh—ut up,” Kageyama drops his head slowly to not draw attention, but it's too slowly, so that the soft red hair tickling his cheek is much more of a caress than anything, “So…loud…” He finishes with a wavering breath, lips skimming disastrously gentle along the shell of Hinata’s ear.

Fuck.

Hinata shivers.

There’s a moment, then, when he can feel every neuron fire, every cell inside him scream to just move away, to pick his head up, to push Hinata away and out of the bushes and to run as fast as he can in whichever direction has the least amount of people.

But, tragically, the moment quickly passes.

And so he stays, with his head lowered, breath rustling the soft hair framing Hinata’s face. God, Hinata smells warm; like fire and like softness, and a little like beer, and fuck if he can explain it, but he smells safe. He smells familiar.

He smells like… _his._

When his cheek knocks gently against Hinata’s temple, when his hand shifts, sliding up from a quivering chest to clasp around a shoulder, Hinata emits a confused squeak of a question from behind Kageyama’s palm and small fingers drop to encircle the forearm pinning them both together.

As he exhales, quiet and slow and deep into fluffy red locks, the full weight of his need for the boy in his arms threatens to overwhelm any and all sense he may still be clinging to. His resolve is fizzling, crumbling, fucking dissolving in the face of the little furnace pressed and shaking against his chest.

It’s the alcohol; it’s the sleepless nights. But most of all it’s Hinata Shouyou.

He wants him. He loves him.

Kageyama is unraveling.

And finally, beneath stratified layers of panic and fear, Kageyama finds the strength to just give in.

His heart beats steady and hard against Hinata’s back and he wants him to feel it – to feel him in this moment; the moment he turns his head slightly, running the tip of his nose down against Hinata’s temple, nuzzling against his hair. Hinata breathes in sharply and his fingers tighten, body positively quaking.

Kageyama breathes out again, letting his thumb drift against a satiny, warm and likely flushed cheek, tracing the delicate bone beneath the skin and drawing that small body in closer, if that’s even possible.

Kageyama is shaking too, but he doesn’t care, because he’s touching those lips he’s been dreaming so vividly about, his fingers brushing so gently over the moist, chill-chapped skin. The tip of his middle finger lingering, following the fleshy swell of Hinata’s bottom lip as they part further for Kageyama, drawing from him a hushed gasp.

And still his fingers continue to drift, daring and yet tremulous, down over Hinata’s chin before slipping beneath, trailing down to dance along the smoothness of his throat, the skin damp with sweat and jumping as the other swallows, his head falling back against Kageyama’s shoulder, breathing heavily and _opening_ for Kageyama.

The setter’s breath catches at the invitation, heart climbing higher both in speed and position and he can’t stop his fingers from finding those parted lips again, magnetized to their feel.

He’s breathing hard against Hinata’s hair and he works to speak against a burning ear, voice lost at the sound of Hinata’s own breath, rapid and wavering.

“Tell me to stop.” Kageyama somehow manages, voice rough and breathy, _pleading_ , with the tips of his fingers feather-light, timid now, against the lips he wants to cover with his own, wants to taste, to pull breath from until Hinata has no choice but to melt into him the way Kageyama has long since melted – liquefied in the face of the other’s radiance, the shining light of his passion for every little thing; how he burst like a flare shot from a gun into Kageyama’s life to not only guide, but to physically tow him up from the abysmal trench of isolation.

And Hinata shakes his head, rolling it against Kageyama’s shoulder so slowly as he raises a trembling hand of his own, removing the fingers against his mouth briefly, just long enough to thread his own between them.

And Kageyama can't see Hinata’s face with his own buried in Hinata’s wild, fragrant hair, drinking in the scent of him, weakened and made helpless by the scorching heat of him, but he doesn't need to see it when all his senses are so wholly immersed in the very existence of the boy he loves.

And then Hinata brings Kageyama’s hand back to his mouth, and he kisses it.

It starts open-mouthed and slow, with Hinata simply dragging the back of Kageyama’s hand across his lips, until those lips reform against his knuckles, pressing in an unmistakable kiss hot on his skin. There’s the graze of teeth and the wet whisper of tongue just before it's over, and Kageyama can't help but squeeze his eyes shut against the gravity of the action, whimpering quietly into red hair.

Their breathing has gone ragged, puffs of air visible in the chilly night as Kageyama lifts his head and reluctantly untwines their laced hands, though with the drop of Hinata’s hold to his wrist, Kageyama can weather the loss. Instead, his fingers run beneath Hinata’s chin again, and he doesn’t so much pull – he doesn’t have to – but guide Hinata’s face up and back to meet his eyes.

“Hinata…” He breathes, broken, for no other reason than to feel the beauty of that name in his mouth. Even in the dark he can see the question in those huge, bright eyes, glassy and shining through the need – the hope. He searches that gaze for something more – for fear or apprehension, for permission, for confirmation.

But all he sees is him. And it’s all he’s ever needed.

And so Kageyama leans in slowly, and he kisses him.

It’s warm and gentle, maybe a little clumsy with the angle or just their inexperience, but it’s a shared inexperience and they instantly find rhythm all the same. So in sync as always – it’s what makes them _them,_ and it makes Kageyama’s pounding heart swell to know that.

Kissing Hinata…just as he’s imagined it a thousand times before.

When Kageyama pulls back he knows it’s too soon. He gazes down at Hinata, brown eyes opening slowly, looking as dazed as Kageyama feels. But those eyes drop to Kageyama’s lips – ever the greedy little thing – and this time it’s Hinata who raises up on his toes to connect again with his setter, threading a trembling hand into black hair to pull down, so demanding, deepening the kiss.

And still the angle is awkward and yet perfect, as if it could be anything but, with the way they fit together and the whimper fed to Kageyama when his tongue slips softly against Hinata’s lips sends fire racing up his spine. Hinata parts his lips for him, _opening_ again for Kageyama and pressing up against him with added urgency and a gasp of need, twining little fingers tightly against Kageyama’s scalp.

When Kageyama pulls back again, Hinata follows with a whimpering sob, tugging weakly against black hair, eyes still closed and panting along with Kageyama.

“Kageyama…” He breathes, voice high and light and lips brushing sweetly, barely, against Kageyama’s own when he finds them again.

“Hinata—“ The setter answers gravelly, allowing his lips to linger only a second longer against the other’s before withdrawing once again to look him in the face.

Because this time he does have something to say.

He runs his thumb against the curve of a delicate jaw until watery eyes finally meet his, “Hinata…” He repeats, eyes searching and heart pounding, “I…I love—“

 

 

\-- _“PwAH!_ You’re suffocating me, you dumb idiot!”

Kageyama blinks and sags back against the house as Hinata roughly smacks the setter’s hand from in front of his mouth and staggers to the side, stumbling and flailing around in the branches like a lunatic.

 _Yeah right._  He thinks with a heavy sigh, letting the image of those big brown eyes, dark and longing, dissolve back into his imagination.  

“Telling me to shut up when you’re the one sounding like he’s having an asthma attack and smothering me—seriously why are you even breathing so hard what’s wrong with you?—I swear to god no one is even coming anymore I don’t know—

 _This is what you're in love with._ He thinks with a sigh. _This is what keeps you up at night_.

Kageyama watches Hinata disentangle himself from the bushes with vague amusement, allowing the burn of the fantasy to linger in his cheeks with the redhead clearly flustered, rambling in self-conscious agitation and distracted in his battle with the shrubbery.

He’s still talking, lowly grumbling at Kageyama a million miles an hour when he escapes the snag of the branches and flattens himself at the corner of the house, peeking around the side in a manner that might be stealthy if he weren’t still running that panicky little mouth.

“—dragging me through pointy sticks like that you could have poked my eye out you know! The coast is clear so,” He finally looks back over his shoulder at Kageyama incredulously, as if he weren’t just throwing a hissy fit, “Are you coming or what?”

Kageyama straightens up with a deep scowl and shoots his arms out to ball his fist into Hinata’s shirt, right where his hand been only seconds prior, and yanks him forward with a quiet _‘wah!_ ’

And then Kageyama grabs the hood to Hinata’s sweatshirt and tugs it over his head, stuffing him into it and cinching the strings tight.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Hinata demands, voice muffled. Kageyama’s heart flutters at the wide, displeased eyes and wrinkled little nose glaring up at him from the small hole in the hood – it’s just…agonizingly too cute. But Kageyama narrows his bleary eyes anyway and growls,

“Hiding that distress beacon you call hair! Now let’s go!” And then he shoves past Hinata to emerge from the shadows and break into an immediate run, leaving the other to curse loudly and free himself from the hood before sprinting after him.

 _If only._ He thinks with Hinata right on his heels, veering off and away from the flag while Hinata changes direction too, executing a wordless diversion of a maneuver and leading Yuu in a wide circle around the yard.

But no. He reminds himself. Because buried beneath his love there still lies a purpose for the evening, dormant and briefly forgotten in his stupor. And it has to be tonight.

 _Please._ He pleads with himself as he outpaces Nishinoya easily along the tree line. He skids to a halt and changes course at the loud screech of _‘KAGEYAMAAA’_ , booking it towards the flag. He snatches the bottle off the chair and tosses it in a perfect arc towards the corner of the house, and just as Hinata leaps into the air to catch it, disappearing a second later into the shadows on his way to the front yard, Kageyama crashes hard into Nishinoya.

They tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs, and if it were anyone else, Kageyama would be concerned for the smaller boy, but the libero is on his feet and yelling ‘WHY DID WE LET THEM BE ON THE SAME TEAM!?’ before Kageyama can even blink, dashing towards Hinata who is already long out of sight.

He stares towards the shadows from his place in the grass, eyes pinned to where Hinata just was and smiling inwardly at the cheer of celebration, loud and excited from the front yard. But his heart feels suddenly heavy, sinking. He leans back on his hands and lets his head loll, blinking slowly towards the clear sky.

“Well that was fast.” Tsukishima says, appearing silently beside Kageyama.

“Where did you come from?” Kageyama asks, not the slightest bit interested.

“Tool shed,” He replies, folding his long limbs and sitting down beside Kageyama with a contented sigh.

Kageyama snorts, eyes still on the stars.

“It was sort of a hard decision,” Tsukishima continues, mirroring the setter’s position and raising his own eyes to the sky, “Whether to get caught or not.”

Kageyama blinks again before turning slowly, brow furrowed as he stares at the lanky blond. “Why did you even want to play, then?”

Tsukishima shrugs.

Kageyama clicks his tongue and is about to stand, about to tell Tsukishima to go fuck himself, but then Tsukishima smirks, sliding his eyes creepily to the side to look at Kageyama. “But I figured it ultimately wouldn’t matter much in the end. And look, I was right.”

“What are you even talking about?” Kageyama asks suspiciously, though trying really hard for blasé.

“You’ve been hard to read tonight, you know,” Tsukishima says with a punchable grin.

God Kageyama wants to hit him. He doesn’t, and so he counts it as a favor.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being a cryptic douche bag?” Kageyama says with a scowl, rising to his feet.

“No,” The shit replies with a laugh, “Especially when you pretend not to know what I'm talking about.”

“Noya is crying about a rematch!” They hear Hinata yell as he reemerges from the side of the house, members of both teams following behind the little redhead as they all reconvene in the backyard.

Kageyama swallows, watching Tanaka put Hinata in a headlock as they approach.

“So what do you think?” Tsukishima asks up at the nervous setter with a smirk, “Think you’ll survive another round?”

A rush of breath leaves Kageyama as he collapses back into the grass. He considers telling Tsukishima to go fuck himself, but he thinks better of it this time, and instead mutters,

“No. I don’t think I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.
> 
> I know. I KNOW. I promise I'll never do that to you again.
> 
> So, @K-A-R-O-1221 put me in an early grave with [this illustration of Kags and Hinata hiding in the bushes before their "kiss"](http://k-a-r-o-1221.tumblr.com/image/157580387573). I'm... like I said, I'm hardcore dead. It's perfect and my soul is floating somewhere in the stratosphere. 
> 
>  
> 
> **The world's biggest and most sincere thank-yous to @fuckthewaveringwood and @RukiaHitachiin for proof-reading and editing this chapter!! You guys are the best!! <3 !**
> 
> Also, I made a little diagram of what the Tanaka household and yard is supposed to look like. It's pathetic but it exists so here: 
> 
>  
> 
> [Please don't laugh](http://majesticartax.tumblr.com/image/156362588549)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like there were a million things I wanted to say before posting this chapter, but now I can't remember a single one. But, hey, I'll definitely get to the reason I rated this as E eventually. Really...I swear. 
> 
> I'm SORRY it took so long to update! Trust me, I think about this obsessively and I can't believe it's been a month since I last posted. This chapter was written in several small chunks so I'm nervous about the flow and blahblahblah
> 
> I still continue to be overwhelmed and perpetually sobbing at the support you guys just won't stop giving me in this, so, really, thank you <33

_Droning…_

_Rambling…_

_Chattering…_

“……..and then he threw it and it was like _bam!_ But then Noya started chasing me again ‘cause it was obvious they weren't going to let the same thing happen again, so then Tanaka popped out of like _nowhere_ and I was all _waaahhh! Tanakaaa!_ But then Kageyama was like ‘ _nuh uh I don't think so’_ and was all like _whoosh_ so then it was me with the thing and I was trapped so then I….…”

_Babbling…_

_Blabbering…_

_Yammering…_

Kageyama thinks, blinking slowly, sleepily, towards the excited redhead as Hinata prattles on about their second capture the flag victory to Suga and Daichi in the light of the fire.

 _Ah - prattles. That's it. He_ prattles.

He considers shoving Hinata backwards off the log by his chatty face, but he doesn't. Instead he just posts his elbow on his knee and his cheek in his hand and watches the idiot talk. And talk.

And talk.

The capture the flag rematch had gone without incident (at least, not the kind of incident that Kageyama has been both dreading and secretly hoping for the entire night) what with Tsukishima’s: ‘ _oh no~, look what happened by accident,’_ as he was led to the tool shed by Yuu after he strolled casually into enemy territory the second the game began.

That asshole.

So when Hinata was eventually caught as well, it took Kageyama about half of an unimpeded second to rescue the dumbass from jail – and yeah, okay, _maybe_ Kageyama wasn't required to physically manhandle him out of the shed like he had, and _maybe_ he didn't have to drag him by his sweaty hand the entire fifteen seconds it took them to sprint back to their side of the house to regroup, and _obviously_ he didn't have to haul Hinata up to his face by the front of his sweatshirt to scold him with such forced intensity that in the middle of his tirade he plum forgot what he was ranting about in the first place, with those big brown eyes all wide and startled and blinking innocently merely inches from his own, that he just shoved Hinata away with a mumbled _‘dumbass’_ and ran back around the house.

At least running around had helped him sober up a little. But now he's just…

Just…

‘Exhausted’ doesn't quite capture it anymore.

“……dove and tagged me, but then Kageyama swooped in like _zoom_ and saved me, so, I mean really, he _burst_ into the shed like some kind of like, knight or something, and grabbed my arm and—“ Hinata turns to grin at Kageyama, but he suddenly falters in his recreation, startling at the blue eyes staring back at him and stumbling in the middle of his meandering sentence. Kageyama blinks, though he’s otherwise unfazed.

_Cute._

He wonders vaguely what he looks like to warrant such a reaction, what kind of expression he has on his face, but he’s a little too tired to give a shit anymore.

Hinata swallows and shakes his head, the fire mirroring the creeping heat in his face as he struggles to continue.

 _“—_ he uh… uh-um came and got me and then he uh… got me from the shed and then… the tool shed… g-grabbed me…” Hinata shoots another quick, debilitating look at Kageyama and squirms, eyes sharp with self-consciousness when he turns back to his former team mates, swallowing so awkwardly Kageyama could swear he did it on purpose to be a theatrical little dork, “…sorry, what was I saying?”

Daichi raises an eyebrow while Suga just hides a smirk behind a bottle of beer.

“Looks like we missed quite the game,” Suga finally says with a genuine smile, “It's nice to see things really have changed between you two.”

“Um. Yeah…” Hinata says, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap.

Kageyama blinks again, brows drawing together, “Things haven’t changed.” He says, though his tired voice rasps out in somewhat of harsh whisper.

He’s fairly sure they didn’t hear him. He clears his throat.

Hinata throws one last glance in Kageyama’s general direction before launching into: “So a-anyway, I was just talking to Yamaguchi the other day about that one time last year when we all went to……”

 _God. Doesn't he ever get tired of talking?_ Kageyama wonders with all the affection in the world, strolling his eyes lazily around the fire.

He curls his lip at Tsukishima’s jackass smirk from across the flames and jams all the reasonable yet invasive gratitude safely back into a thick cocoon of animosity where those kinds of feelings belong, and shifts on the log, turning his body and attention back towards Hinata’s wild gesturing as he yells about… whatever.

_CUTE._

Kageyama yawns; tears prick the corners of his bleary eyes and he squeezes them shut, dragging the eyelids back up with an extraordinary amount of effort – he can almost hear the grating scratch of flesh scraping over his cornea.

It’s… unpleasant.

But what he sees when his vision clears again, isn’t.

He’s not sure how it happened – fuck, he must have had his eyes closed for longer than he thought… did he fall asleep? – but when he opens his eyes, Hinata is no longer yapping and flailing around, and Suga and Daichi are gone. Rather, Hinata is staring into the fire with his own sleepy and content smile, swaying back and forth on the log to some unheard tune in his own head.

Such a fucking _Hinata_ thing to do.

And Kageyama sighs. It’s audible, but not so that it pulls Hinata from whatever far-off place he’s lost to while watching the dance of the fire.

And Kageyama can’t look away.

The flickering of the light against the soft features of Hinata’s face is hypnotic, the shadows dancing beneath the endearingly unkempt mop of hair elegantly contrast the faint bloom of heat in his cheeks; his lips shimmer, parted and delicate, luminous in the firelight and just _begging_ to be kissed.

The flames reflected in his eyes burn bright with a warmth greater than their source, promising far more comfort than any fireside could hope to offer. Just like they always have; promising condolement and affection and refuge from everything that Kageyama has always been.

Warmth that has already made him so much better than he used to be. Warmth that could sustain him forever.

But there, _there_ lies the problem: _forever._

Because he knows better than anyone that nothing can last forever. People don’t stay forever. At least, not with _him_.

But here, in the light of the fire, that doesn’t matter, because Hinata is radiant.

Hinata is beautiful.

Hardly a novel observation, he knows, but one he’s never explicitly… thought before. Not through any sort of deliberate reflection on the topic. Hinata’s beauty has consistently just… _been_ – a feeling, an elemental fact deeply ingrained in his heart. Volleyball is awesome, milk is tasty, and Hinata Shouyou is beautiful.

Even in his most obscene, pornographic fantasies, where Kageyama is free to ravage him, dirty him, to mess him up in _hundreds_ of ways he’s way too young to know about, with Hinata moaning and gasping beneath him, hair splayed and messy against the pillow, or the end of the bed, or the couch, or the floor—

Eyes blown dark and lidded, voice gravelly and wrecked with bliss, Kageyama can _still_ untwine his pure beauty from the carnal desperation, the gross, sweaty mess of their bodies, all tangled limbs and heaving breaths as Hinata writhes beneath his hands. The pinked hue of his pale skin, flushed with want and damp with taking, its visible softness only rivaled by its feel beneath calloused palms and gentle, roaming fingers. The deep red, kiss-bruised lips so expressive by nature, sometimes puckered into a little pout or so often stretched wide in a smile; the way his brow crinkles in pleasure the same way it does when Hinata falls into heavy concentration, when he’s determined and focused and promising victory. Or a challenge.

And, yes, his eyes; longing and lust-filled, watery and yet still sparkling, pinned to Kageyama as they always are. Eyes that managed to capture him so long ago and how they sometimes shine, now, just for him – god, how he lives for those moments.  

And then, again, is his smile – the one that’s untouched even by his perversions. That smile he’s imagined so many times pushed into flushed cheeks as Hinata reaches up for him, slipping thin arms around the setter’s neck, his face so filled with joy and love it makes Kageyama’s heart swell to bursting as he yields to the pull, dropping his face to Hinata’s neck, breathing against the skin and whispering, telling him everything.

 _‘You’re beautiful,’_ he would say. _‘You’re so beautiful. I love you, Hinata...you’re so, so beautiful,’_ and then he would kiss him, pouring everything he had into the press of their lips, knowing that where he undoubtedly fell short in his words, he could make up for with the beating of his heart against Hinata’s chest, with the tangle of arms around his small body, the way Kageyama would surrender, mind and body and heart and soul, giving himself over completely, wholly, to Hinata.

Hinata is beautiful.

And not even the harsh drag of abandonment still so heavy on his heart can take that from him.

Kageyama watches, now, the way Hinata blinks into the flames, two embers vibrant and nestled beneath russet fringe before flicking to the side, peeking over at Kageyama and then bashfully glancing away, as if _he’s_ the one who got caught looking, the bloom in his cheeks achieving full blossoming luster.

And yet a shy smile works its way onto his Hinata’s lips as he drops his eyes to his lap.

He’s glowing.

Fuck – it’s like he was born to be viewed in the firelight.

“You um… haven’t played any of your games tonight,” Hinata says softly, watching his fingers pull at a thread on his jeans, lip catching in his teeth to hide the evident smile.

“Huh?” Kageyama raises his head off his hand, blinking once. Twice. “What do you mean?”

“Your… video games. You brought them and you haven’t played any.”

Kageyama frowns, straightening up, “do you want me to go away or something?”

Hinata just shakes his head, wetting his lips and still fiddling with the loose thread, pulling it tight.

“So… did you want to go play some?”

Hinata stills momentarily, mulling this over, but then shakes his head again, lip worried in his teeth as his gaze drifts slowly from his thread to Kageyama’s lap, creeping up his body but darting away again before eyes reach his face.

_Oh._

“What are you getting at?” Kageyama grumbles, knowing exactly what Hinata is getting at, “they’re my games. I’ve played them already.”

But Hinata sighs, abandoning his security thread and leaning his elbows on his knees to cradle his chin in his hands.

“Never mind,” he mumbles towards the fire.

“I’m doing what I want to do, dumbass.” Kageyama goes for indignant, but it comes out much more hushed, fonder and more telling than he meant it to.

 _‘I want to be here with you,’_ is what he really said.

And he knows this by the way Hinata jerks, his lips parting momentarily before he dissolves into another timid smile that somehow rivals the flames in luminance.

Hinata is so, _so_ beautiful.  

And it’s so _easy_ to forget why he can’t just surrender to the aching thrum of his heart with the way Hinata chews his lip all nervous like that, with the way he’s sneaking looks at Kageyama out of the corner of his eye, with how responsive Kageyama knows he would be if he were to just… if he could only…

He should… he should tell him.

Kageyama should tell him how beautiful he is. Just once. Just once before…

Once, before Kageyama’s nature manages to eclipse the radiance of the sun.

 _His_ sun.

He wipes a hand down his face.

_So tell him._

But Hinata is laughing now, breathing out the smallest, airiest of laughs and tilting his head back, raising his eyes to the sky and leaning back on the log. Far back. _Too_ far back.

_“Ah!”_

Hinata hits the ground with a soft thud, his legs kicking up into the air once before plopping back down, settling, draped over the log and he claps his hands over his mouth to muffle the long string of giggles that flutter musically past his lips.

“Idiot.” Kageyama mutters, unable to suppress an affectionate smirk as he turns to look down.

“Mmhm.” Hinata hums happily, dropping his hands to rest palm up along the sides of his face. He laughs once more up at the sky before sighing deeply, so content, and closing his eyes with a tender smile still resting on his lips.

_Tell him._

Red locks lie fanned around the other’s head, halo-like yet messy against the dark grass. Kageyama swallows; he leans over, hesitantly placing a hand beside Hinata’s knee and sliding the other nervously through his own hair. He’s shaking. He’s shaking just from looking at him.

_Tell him._

But when brown eyes slide open slowly he panics and jerks himself back around to bury his face in his hands as subtly as possible, cheeks burning into his palms.

Hinata just stretches and yawns, and then Kageyama feels insistent little fingers _tap tap tap_ ping at his hip.

“K’yamaaa! Help me up!”

And without a second thought – but with an obvious groan of annoyance – Kageyama drops his hands from his face and slides one back, threading his fingers through Hinata’s for leverage and turns, gripping the front of the maroon hoodie with his other hand and dragging Hinata back onto the log.

Kageyama breathes out a short, sharp laugh at the tousled mess of hair as Hinata reels from the sudden change in position, blinking dizzily and wobbling where he sits.

“How does _this_ happen?” Kageyama asks with a snort, stuffing his fingers into hilariously wild hair and tugging gently.

“’Cause you do _that_!” Hinata giggles, shaking his head and weakly swatting at Kageyama’s arm.

Kageyama clicks his tongue, “You can’t blame me for this… _disaster_.” He smirks, squeezing his hand against Hinata’s scalp once for good measure before he lets go.

But what he doesn’t expect is the tentative squeeze to his other hand, little fingers tightening around his own where they are still laced together.

Kageyama’s face goes slack and he freezes just when Hinata jumps, spine straightening like the crack of a whip as he yanks his hand from Kageyama’s, those pinks and reds beneath his skin bleeding down and out of his face like someone pulled a plug.

“S-sorry!” Hinata stutters out, turning rigidly back towards the flames.

Kageyama blinks slowly as color fills back into Hinata’s face, cheeks cherry red as he clenches his fingers into his palms against the bark of the log, trying to keep his wide and frightened eyes forward.

Kageyama frowns and looks down at his own hand resting motionless against his thigh, still curved around the shape of the other’s. He wets his lips, heart beating with a dull, mocking pain.

“What are you apologizing for, dumbass?” Kageyama asks quietly to his hand.

But when his question goes unanswered, Kageyama raises his eyes.

And Hinata is looking down at his palm in that…in that _way_ that he does; like after they execute the perfect quick or he scores a game-winning point.

 _That_ way.

And he’s smiling. It’s a fond, lopsided little thing but it makes Kageyama’s aching heart swell and soar into the night sky. So when Hinata pairs that smile with a short, nasally little laugh, lip catching between his teeth and eyes lifting back to the fire before he curls his fingers into his palm, Kageyama can’t help but clutch at his own chest.

It’s too much. It’s all just _too much_.

So with a declaration of love – of _everything_ perched precariously on his tongue and caged behind his teeth, he parts his lips, breath shuddered and broken as he sucks in air—

“We can’t be friends anymore.”

The words leak past his lips unbidden, forced from his mouth in a coarse, grainy whisper, and his heart freefalls, comes crashing back to earth like an asteroid of bitter regret.

But he just holds his breath – there’s no way he can take that back.

But then,

“Hm?” Hinata hums, pulling his gaze from the flames and retraining warm eyes on Kageyama, “did you say something, Kageyama?”

“I-I…” Kageyama stammers, mouth working uselessly with that little face looking back at him, eyes so full of hope and optimism.

_I’m a monster._

“I um…we can’t—“ He tries again, swallowing and eyes darting around the yard, desperate to look anywhere except at that face – those goddamn _lips._

He lurches to his feet, and Hinata does the same.

“Whoa, hey! Are you alright!?”

Kageyama hears him but he can’t see him; his face is buried in his shaking hands and he takes a sharp step sideways. The world is shifting beneath his feet.

“I don’t—“ He tries maybe one last time to cough the words out of his mouth, to get his tongue to work once more around what he needs to say, but what comes out instead is:

“I don’t…feel good.”

He staggers once, pitching to the side and sticking his arms out to the side to steady himself but a small body, all warm and stable shoves up against him, slipping beneath his arm and wrapping one of his own around Kageyama’s waist.

“Be careful, stupid!” Hinata hisses, “you’re next to a fire!”  

“I’m fine.” Kageyama grumbles, jerking away from Hinata only to stumble again.

“Idiot!” Hinata cries and is immediately at his side once more, “you drank too much.” It’s not a question.

“I did not _drink_ too much!” Kageyama growls, habitually contrary. And then he groans, “well… maybe a little—“ he wobbles, “fuck—I just…I haven’t been sleeping well so I—“

“Shh…” Hinata soothes, slipping his fingers gently around Kageyama’s wrist and turning them both toward the house, looping Kageyama’s arm around his shoulders, “Let’s go inside.”

“N-no,” Kageyama protests, pressing a hand over his eyes even as they trip their way across the lawn, “that’s not a good idea.”

“How it is not a good idea, you moron.” Hinata mocks gently, helping Kageyama up the shallow wooden steps and onto the deck.

“I’m not going inside.”

“You are going inside,” Hinata says firmly, tugging open the sliding glass door, “and then you’re going to lie down.”

“No!” Kageyama grunts and finally wrenches himself away from Hinata, only to drop down heavily onto a deck chair.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Hinata asks, sticking his hands to his hips and glaring at Kageyama in the dim light.

“I told you I’m fine.” Kageyama mumbles to his feet, waving Hinata away—er, _trying_ to. Hinata isn’t going anywhere.

Instead, Hinata huffs, blowing his bangs out of his eyes and stepping forward to gather up Kageyama’s wrist in his hand again and pull, “come on, you big dumb drunk.”

Kageyama groans, but he stands anyway, weak to the feeling of Hinata’s warm hand on him.

And honestly, lying down sounds _heavenly._ And lying down _with Hinata_ sounds…

The damning sound of the door sliding shut behind him resonates like doom in his gut before he can turn back.

“Come on,” Hinata repeats softly, weaseling his way beneath Kageyama’s arm again, uncaring of the curious eyes of random party guests, “I’ll find Tanaka and ask if there’s a bedroom you can use or some—“

“Nope,” Kageyama clips, staggering back into the cool glass and pulling Hinata with him, “no bedroom.”

“Uh…” Hinata licks his lips and twists his neck to look up at Kageyama with a look of confused concern, “alright. Couch then?”

Reluctantly, Kageyama nods.

They shuffle their way out of the kitchen, past Yamaguchi and Asahi playing cards at the kitchen table with two of the first years and into the dark, empty living room.

Alright, maybe the couch wasn’t a great compromise.

“I’m just going to set up my sleeping bag,” Kageyama mumbles when they’re standing in front of the (very plush and comfortable looking) sofa.

“Oh shut up,” Hinata replies with a roll of his eyes, shoving Kageyama down onto the cushions and toeing off his shoes, “I’m getting you water.”

Kageyama sinks back into the couch and scrubs a hand down his face when Hinata steps around behind him and into the kitchen.

This isn’t exactly… going the way it’s supposed to.

He breathes out long and slow out his nose and drops his head back, sinking further into the cushions.

Blue eyes rimmed with red peel open to watch the hazy ceiling and he raises his hand up towards it, turning it over and flexing his fingers – he can still feel Hinata’s between them.

“Fuck.”

The word seeps out of him, billows up and out into the empty room to fill every dark corner with his grief.

He _tried_ goddammit. He _said_ it… how is he ever going to be able to say it again?

He startles when he feels the cushion dip beside him, and then a bottle of water is being pressed into his palm.

“Sorry,” Hinata says softly when Kageyama raises his head, “I didn’t think you’d fall asleep so fast.”

“’m not sleeping.”

He sits up, rubbing his eye before he uncaps the water and takes a long, slow drink. When he lowers the bottle, Hinata is looking at him. Watching him.

“What?” Kageyama mutters, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“Nothing,” Hinata replies in a whisper, but he doesn’t look away, “are you sure you’re alright?”

“Mhm,” Kageyama hums, recapping the bottle and staring down at it in his hands, “I just haven’t been sleeping much.”

“Why?”

When Kageyama looks up, Hinata’s gaze is measured, level. Kageyama looks away.

“I don’t know.”

When he flicks his eyes up again, Hinata doesn’t look satisfied, but he doesn’t push it. No – he just settles back into the couch himself and sighs, and plucks the bottle out of Kageyama’s hand.

“So lie down then.” Hinata says with a shrug before taking a sip.

“I’m good like this.” Kageyama mumbles, dropping his head back again and letting his eyes fall closed.

“You’re so dumb.” Hinata says with a yawn.

“I am not.”

“The dumbest.”

“You’re dumb.”

“I’m pretty dumb, yeah.”

Kageyama breathes out a small, surprised laugh and rolls his head to the side. Hinata is looking back at him with a smile, leaned back into the cushions himself with his legs tucked up beneath him.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says with a sad, crooked smile, sliding his eyes back to the ceiling, “me too.”

* * *

Kageyama wakes in stages. His senses return slowly, trickling in through gaps in the dreamless dark and body awakening though still motionless where he lies, relaxed and comfortable and warm.

He tucks his chin, sighing out evenly and deeply, contently, and then

_Oh._

The thigh beneath his head twitches, and the hand that had since stilled, warm and pleasantly heavy against the side of his neck begins to stir, fingers fluttering back to life and dragging softly, languidly, through his hair.

For another deep, sleep-laden breath he believes that perhaps he is dreaming some perfect dream – or at this point, hallucinating – the small twirling fingers, aimless and yet so caring, dancing slowly along his scalp and brushing against his ear.

But he isn’t.

Absent fingertips trail down along his hair line, brushing bangs from his forehead, combing through the strands and occasionally pausing, a gentle palm settling momentarily back against his head as Hinata nods off to sleep himself.

The feeling that wells up inside him… it’s… it’s certainly nothing he’s ever felt before, and nothing he could ever imagine feeling again. It’s immeasurable – the love, the choking affection, it’s…

 _It’s too_ much.

A quiet, involuntary whine drones out from his throat as Kageyama rolls his cheek against Hinata’s thigh and fingers jump again, lifting first from his head before tracing again along his temple, flitting in slow, delicate patterns that feel just…

“Kageyama?”

_Perfect._

Kageyama’s heart clenches, his eyes squeeze, still shut. He doesn’t answer.

But those fingers drift on, weaving and aimless, brushing aside doubt and heartache and the oppressive disgust for himself with every lingering pass of his hand.

The hand he mangled months ago with his awful temperament, fingers broken by whatever dumb, egotistical rational he had for sending Hinata intentionally awful, clearly _dangerous_ tosses. God. Just imagine how much worse it could get. Broken arm, broken neck.

Broken heart.

And so, he chases it – he hunts down the bitterness and anger and harnesses it, wields it like an axe, hacking his way out from beneath the bedlam of this _perfection_ and love fed to him from Hinata’s hand like a poison, infecting his judgment and his recognition of what it would mean to _just. Give. In._

And he will never, _ever_ subject the only person he may ever love in this way to the absolute _wretchedness_ that he knows lives within himself.

It’s the only way to… to protect him. To protect Hinata. To preserve the sunlight, even if he must remain in the shadows.

_…right?_

“Kageyama?” A small, tired voice whispers from above, “are you awake?”

Kageyama’s breath catches, dread flooding into his veins like an ice flow.

But again, he doesn’t answer. His heart is pounding.

“Ka…geyama?” Hinata whispers again, fingers suddenly hesitant, lifting from his head, “Tobio?”

_Coward._

“Um…” Hinata sniffs, replacing his hand, now tremulous in his hair, “S-so… I know you’re sleeping, but… I just wanted to say… um…”

_Oh god. Oh god no._

“T-that I—“

Kageyama jerks, sitting up in a panic. He turns, a little too wide-eyed toward Hinata who returns his startled gaze, hand drawn back in surprise. Brown eyes blink. They blink again. And then Hinata softens into an easy smile, dropping his hand into his lap and thudding his head softly back into the cushions.

“Well, good morning.” He giggles.

And Kageyama rearranges his face into something he hopes looks somewhat like how a person who just woke up should look like. He rubs at his eyes in an over exaggerated display of sudden waking.

“How—“ Kageyama rasps out, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, “—long was I out?”

“Mm,” Hinata reaches down into the cushions beside him, drawing up the water bottle before handing it to Kageyama, “like… an hour?”

Kageyama lets the bottle slip through his fingers.

“I was asleep for an _hour_!?”

“Maybe a little more?” Hinata guesses, knuckling at his eyes while Kageyama looks around in alarm. There are noticeably fewer party guests milling around the kitchen behind them, and he locks eyes with Tsukishima, who has apparently joined the card game at the table. Kageyama scowls and jerks his gaze away.

“You… stayed here while I slept… for an hour?” Kageyama deadpans in accusatory disbelief.

But Hinata just shrugs, bending down to scoop up the fallen water bottle.

Kageyama frowns as he watches Hinata uncap the water and bring it to his lips, draining the rest.

“Why would you do something like that?” Kageyama feels a prickling heat crawling up the sides of his face, a twinge of anger flashing hot behind his eyes.

“What do you mean?” Hinata asks, jamming the empty bottle into the gap in the cushions on the couch back. He looks at it, satisfied.

“You missed an hour of the party,” The volume of Kageyama’s voice begins to rise, “so you could sit here and… and just… _sit here_!?”

Hinata frowns, “I wanted to make sure you were okay. What’s the big deal?”

“Of course I’m okay, dumbass!” He finishes with some force, the first time in a while he’s called him that and truly meant it, “You lo—parties are--you like them! A lot! Why the hell would you do that!?”

And Hinata blinks back at him, face blank, confused, and says,

“Guess I like you more.”

Kageyama grabs the sides of his own face and slumps forward. He feels this rage building, this unstoppable force of anger and resentment and—

And he feels his heart start to break.

“Stop _saying_ things like that.” He growls towards the floor.

“Like what?” Hinata asks quietly. Kageyama feels him shift on the couch – shift closer to him.

Kageyama swallows thickly and drags his hands down his face. He feels a numbness spreading, radiating from his chest and into his tense shoulders.

“That,” Kageyama steels himself, forcing his eyes to Hinata’s confused little face, “you like me. And… _things_ about me!” He grinds out through his teeth, curling his hands into fists on his knees, “That’s…it’s not—“

“Why can’t I?” Hinata persists, nervously licking his lips and eyes flicking down to Kageyama’s mouth, “why can’t I say things like that?”

“Because!” Kageyama snaps, turning back around, one hand shielding his eyes again from Hinata – he can’t look at him for this. The numbness continues to spread like a virus, creeping down his arms and winding, thick and oppressive in his gut, “because I don’t!”

Then there’s a pause, and all Kageyama can hear is his own heavy, angry breathing before,

“You don’t… what?”

And with a defeated exhale, the numbness congests him, pushing into every space, every crevice, cruelly engulfing and darkening whatever light still shone bright with Hinata’s medicinal fire.

“You,” Kageyama answers in a hush, “I don’t like _you._ ”

Kageyama lets the words loom, hang stagnant and acrid in the still air between them. He starts to tremble. A lump pushes out from his chest and into his throat, choking and punishing. He doesn’t dare to look at Hinata’s crushed face, the tears inevitably sprung up into shining eyes.

_God… what did I do?_

But then

“Shut up, idiot.” Hinata scoffs, punching Kageyama in the shoulder before stretching his arms high above his head and yawning, “I’m getting you more water.” He says, hopping down off the couch.

“Stop,” Kageyama says, lifting his head to finally look up at Hinata, cruel inertia forcing him to power through, “I’m being serious. I don’t…” He looks Hinata dead in the eyes, “I don’t like you.”

But Hinata just rolls his eyes, “yeah, I’m not a big fan of drunk Tobio, either. I’ll be right back.”

“Hey!” Kageyama barks, hand shooting out to grip Hinata’s wrist as he tries to step away, “listen to what I’m saying!”

Hinata freezes and looks down, eyes fixed on the hand squeezing around his wrist.

“I do not _like you,_ ” Their eyes meet again, Kageyama’s voice drops to a menacing hiss, “I’ve never liked you. You’re too… too _clingy—“_

Hinata arches an incredulous brow and looks pointedly at the fingers encircling his wrist. But still Kageyama holds tight, uncaring of the irony and desperate to just… to have this one last _thing._ One last feeling of Hinata in any way he can have it.

 _Tell him why!_ He screams at himself, _Say it’s because you_ love _him! SAY IT!_

But he doesn’t.

Instead his eyes burn into Hinata’s face, stinging when he refuses to blink.

“—a-and it’s…I can’t…” Kageyama, stammers, faltering.

Honey-brown eyes widen, dark and glossy and searching Kageyama’s face as Hinata sits back down on the couch, Kageyama’s hand still clutching around his wrist. Hinata frowns – all the concern in the world etched between those furrowed little brows.

“What’s wrong, Kageyama?” He asks, eyes full of protective worry, “what happened?”

“Nothing _happened_ , you idiot!” Kageyama hisses, eyes darting down when he releases Hinata’s wrist and wishing so bad he didn’t – not _yet_ , he wasn’t _ready,_ “I don’t… I don’t want to be around you anymore.”

Hinata is still, quiet. His only movement comes from the rapid blinking of his eyes – he doesn’t even seem to be breathing anymore.

“You don’t… like me?” He finally says quietly with a tiny cock of his head.

And Kageyama grimaces, his heart twisting and ripping through his chest.

“No.”

A minute passes, maybe more. Maybe he’s stopped time completely with the biggest and most vicious lie ever told. He swallows and parts his lips, his crushed heart hammering against his sternum with every cruel silent second. Until,

“But that’s… not true,” Hinata scrunches his nose, “it’s like… _obviously_ not true.”

“It _is_ though!” Kageyama spits, “stop making this so hard!”

Hinata throws his hands up in exasperation, “making what hard!? I’m your _friend_ , you asshole!”

“Well I don’t want to be friends anymore!” Kageyama yells, gripping the back of the couch to ground himself.

Hinata is still looking at him in stark confusion, mind working, tumbling around this puzzle.

“Do you understand yet, you fucking—“

“But you hugged me.”

Kageyama jerks like he was slapped, eyes flying wide, “what?”

“You,” Hinata wets his lips, eyes sliding away and down towards the carpet, “hugged me. In the club room.”

It takes a few seconds for Kageyama to process this statement, to prevent himself from screaming about the dozens of things he _wants_ to do, how the hug was but this minuscule drop in the dam-break of affection flooding out of him every moment Hinata is around him.

So he finally whispers,

“think of it as a goodbye.”

Hinata winces a little and continues to stare at a spot on the carpet, and Kageyama realizes how close they’ve drawn to each other – go figure. But maybe…

Kageyama’s eyes fall to Hinata’s parted lips. Maybe he should show him what a real goodbye could be like… yeah… maybe—

“Kageyama,” Hinata sighs, pulling his gaze up from the floor to meet Kageyama’s, facing him and rearranging himself on the couch, kneeling on the cushion with his hands folded in his lap, “I don’t know what happened, or why you’re saying all of this but… if there’s something, like, wrong—“

“There is so much wrong.” Kageyama mouths, barely audible.

There’s no doubt, no hesitation when Hinata places his hand on Kageyama’s knee, holding his gaze, “you can tell me anything, okay? You’re not… you never have to be alone again. Don’t you know that by now?”

Blurry. The room is so… so very blurry all of a sudden.

“Move your hand, Hinata.”

Hinata doesn’t.

“Move your HAND, dumbass!” Kageyama growls, smacking the hand from his knee. Hinata jerks back, blinking down at his stinging fingers. He rubs them and flicks his eyes back to Kageyama’s face.

“Kage—“

“Get away from me.” Kageyama grinds out, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face away, “Please. Just go away.”

Hinata doesn’t say anything, but he does stand slowly, unfolding his legs from beneath himself and rising, crossing slowly in front of the couch.

But Kageyama’s hand shoots out, fingers wrapping a bicep. He whispers, pleading, without looking up, “don’t… leave.”

“GOD, Kageyama!” Hinata cries, wrenching his arm from Kageyama’s grip, “make up your mind!”

When Kageyama finally does look at him, he doesn’t see the tears he expected. Hinata doesn’t even really look upset. No, he just looks very… tired.

“I’m going to go get you more water,” Hinata rubs at his face, “And then I’ll let you work out whatever… _this_ is.” He finishes with a vague gesture in Kageyama’s face.

When Hinata steps around the couch, Kageyama doesn’t protest. He doesn’t have it in him. There’s nothing left.

He’s a husk, a useless shell of a person sitting alone in the dark. He’d say his heart was broken if the thought it was there at all.

When Hinata returns with the water, Kageyama doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t watch the way Hinata sets it on the cushion beside him before stepping away again.

But he does say,

“Go find Yuu.”

“What?” Hinata pauses, half turning back.

Kageyama knocks his head back into the cushions, closing his eyes and letting the pain sear through him. He deserves this.

“Go find Yuu,” Kageyama repeats, knowing Hinata can’t see the single tear slipping down his cheek, “He needs to talk to you about something.”

But Hinata lingers, his small shadow cast from the light of the kitchen hovering near where he had been perched on the couch.

“You know,” Hinata starts quietly, “I just wanted to tell you…that I—“

“Stop.” Kageyama grinds out, pressing his hands to his eyes, “please stop.”

“—I had a really nice time with you tonight.”

Kageyama rolls his head, cracking open his burning eyes and lifting his hand against his better judgement to look at Hinata.

But Hinata is smiling.

“It was fun. So… thank you.”

And with that, he pads silently out of the room.

* * *

He thanks his lucky stars that the bathroom is vacant – he’s had to pee for what feels like _hours,_ but he just couldn’t bring himself to disturb Kageyama while he slept.

So, honestly, what’s another couple of minutes?

Without flicking on the light, Hinata closes the door softly before turning and knocking his head back against it. Then he sighs deeply, sliding down the wood and to the floor.

And then he buries his face into his hands, and he cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm...I'm sorry.
> 
> One day I'll stop apologizing after chapters. The day will come.
> 
> HUGE thank you again to @fuckthewaveringwood and @rukiahitachiin for proofing and editing!
> 
> Okay SOMEHOW @nekolyssi managed to create this MINDBLOWINGLY gorgeous art for this chapter merely HOURS after I posted? Excuse me? Um... I'm wrecked forever thank you very much?[ LOOK. AT. IT.](https://nekolyssi.tumblr.com/post/157992283159/but-here-in-the-light-of-the-fire-that-doesnt)
> 
> [Nine Inch Nails song Hurt](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=kPz21cDK7dg) is relevant to this chapter I think. I'm sure you've heard it? Maybe? Am I showing my age by thinking you've heard it?


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sense some of you may be getting frustrated.
> 
> Yeah - me too :(

 

With one final backhanded swipe to his eyes, Hinata drops his hands, palms smacking loudly against the cool counter beside the bathroom sink as he stares at himself in the mirror.

He looks so tired. But at least he’s successfully erased any evidence of his pathetic blubbering with a splash of cold water to his sorrow-flushed face. He sighs now, hanging his head, with little droplets of water jumping from wet strands of hair hanging in his eyes.

Hope is…

_So cruel._

And Kageyama's hair is just as soft as it looks.

But he finds himself kind of smiling, albeit sadly, in spite of it all. Because for a few shining hours, Hinata was allowed to hope, to feel what it might be like if things were maybe… just a little different.

Obviously Kageyama’s behavior held more meaning to Hinata than it should have – he knows this. He’s not stupid.

…he’s not _that_ stupid.

Kageyama was drunk, and that explains everything: his grabby hands during capture the flag, wiping the chocolate off his face by the fire, the lingering stares, the band-aid thing… wait. No, he wasn’t drunk for that.

But everything else was the alcohol.

_Still…_

Knowing that doesn’t take away the memory of gentle fingers tracing over his leg, or the warmth of Kageyama’s body wrapped around him in the shadow of the house, or the unmistakable, confusing as hell affection in those tired blue eyes he caught so many times tonight, or the sound of that sleepily little sigh before Kageyama dropped his head into his lap.

Or the soft glide of black hair slipping through his fingers.

Hinata gets to hold onto that forever.

_‘I don’t like you.’_

He sighs again; at least the ache in his chest is back. That's what he wanted, right?

_Idiot._

_‘I don't like you.’_

He forces those words away, because if he doesn’t he’ll start crying again.

Oh… too late.

Sinking down onto the edge of the tub, Hinata cradles his face in his hands as heavy, silent tears roll down his cheeks. It isn't that he thinks Kageyama meant all those things – Hinata knows he didn't.

He didn't, right?

No, of course not; Kageyama would have let him know that months ago. Please, since when did he ever keep those kinds of things to himself?

But rather it was that for one perfect night, Hinata felt like maybe he was _allowed_ to feel all these things towards his teammate, that all those _gwaah_ feelings sprouting up from beneath stratified layers of agony weren’t rooted in something so completely absurd, that maybe Hinata wasn’t… okay, no, that’s crazy.

But maybe…

A fragile whimper rattles up from his throat, fists clenching in front of his eyes and teeth ground together to hold back a choking sob.

Maybe he wasn’t _alone_ in his feelings.

He scrubs angrily at his eyes with his sleeve; he _knew_ it was stupid. He fucking knew it and yet he allowed the illusion to lure him in – like an oasis in the vast desert of his unrequited love. Only instead of a lagoon, he dove straight into a pit of razor blades.  

Because honestly, it isn’t like anything happened. Nothing is different - nothing will change. A couple nights ago in the club room Kageyama tried to pull the same ‘leave me alone’ shit, bookended by a private nail filing session and—

Hinata slides his hands into his hair, gripping tight at the messy strands.

—that hug.

 _God –_ how could something that never belonged to him be snatched away so callously?

Maybe tomorrow Kageyama will apologize for being a mean drunk idiot, and Hinata will immediately forgive him, dismissing the scathing words like he always has and always will, and maybe even try to push his luck again by asking for another hug (pathetic) or just going for it himself knowing damn well there’s at least a ninety percent chance of him being shoved away (but he’ll cling to that remaining ten) and things will go back to the way they’ve always been – with Hinata pining and longing and ultimately wishing for another night just like this one, desperate for just one more minute of that false hope—

He clenches his jaw, bringing his fists down hard on his thighs.

No. He will _never_ allow himself to hope again.

And maybe… maybe things _should_ change.

Or does he really want to keep suffering? To keep this burning love bottled up inside, singeing the edges of his sanity until the fire consumes him because at least he _knows_ what it feels like to love, goddammit! Some people go their whole lives without even so much as a spark. And here he is, lucky enough to have this forest fire raging inside him. Even if it's killing him. But would he trade this blaze for relief if he could?

The answer is a resounding ‘yes’.

He climbs to his feet. Things _will_ change. He’s Hinata Shouyou, for fuck’s sake! And he can do anything! If he wants change he’ll get it! He’s strong! Determined!

_‘As long as I’m here, you’re invincible.’_

Oh… that’s right. His strength is _conditional_.

But no! NO, there was a time _before_ Kageyama when he found the power within himself to work for what he wanted! And there will come a time _after_ Kageyama when he can still do the same.

With the volleyball gods as his witness, he’ll figure out a way to fall out of love with Kageyama. Because he _has_ to.

Because he won’t _survive_ another tour of hope.

_Yeah but… maybe I don’t want to. What would life even be like without—_

He jumps a mile at the quiet knock at the door.

“J-ust—“ his voice crackles. He tries again. “Just a second!”

Looking around in a panic, he snags some toilet paper and blows his nose, wiping away the tears with his sleeve again before giving himself one last once-over in the mirror and grinning at himself like an ass. He dials it back before opening the door.

“Sorry! I was—oh, Yuu!” Hinata halts in the doorway, looking up at the startled first year in the dim, empty hallway.

“Y-yeah, hey,” he says, looking away. But he frowns and looks back immediately. “Why are you wet?”

“Nothing!” Hinata chirps, beaming up at the other. “I mean—what!? Good! I'm good. Are you good? How are you?”

_I hope a volleyball takes your stupid head off._

“Yeah…” Yuu blinks down at him, “can I um… talk to you?”

“Sure,” Hinata says with a sniff as his stomach floods with dread. He relaxes his aching smile. “Kageyama said you uh…needed something,” he says, averting his gaze and picking absently at a spot on the doorframe with his nails.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course!” Hinata goes back to grinning. He’s pretty sure he can feel the tendons around his mouth tearing.

_I’d be a lot more ‘okay’ if you got out of my face._

But Hinata knows that's not fair. Yuu hasn't done anything wrong, and yeah, things may seem a little bizarre between he and Kageyama… and there were those _looks_ they kept giving each other. Almost like—

“Your eyes are all red,” Yuu presses quietly, taking a small step forward, “have you been—“

“Allergies!” Hinata shouts a little too abruptly. And far too loudly. “I'm allergic to uh… grass!” He wheels around and dashes back into the bathroom, emerging with fists full of toilet paper. He makes a big display of blowing his nose again and jamming the unused tissue sloppily into his pockets. “Better take some extra just in case, you know?”

“Yeah… can’t be too careful of all that… grass,” Yuu agrees, slowly nodding, eyes wandering from the toilet paper overflowing from Hinata’s pockets and back up to his face. But instead of looking at Hinata like he's just a tiny bit crazy, Yuu’s big brown eyes are saying something else.

And Hinata frowns. “Everything alright?”

Yuu clears his throat, gaze dropping to the floor.

“Yep, everything is great,” he says, blowing out a steady breath before looking back at Hinata. “Can we, like… go somewhere? To talk?”

“Um, sure,” Hinata replies suspiciously. Something feels… off.

Now that he thinks about it, why hadn’t Yuu hung out with Kageyama at all tonight? Is it because Hinata had been all over him himself? Being all… all _clingy_ and everything?

Hinata mentally shakes his head. No – that isn't right.

_‘He touches you all the time.’_

Hinata follows Yuu to the front porch anyway, wondering if maybe he really should brace himself for some unsettling news. Something like: _‘I'm having Kageyama's baby’_ perhaps, or: _‘We’re thinking of a June wedding.’_

_God I hate this kid._

Yuu sweeps his eyes over the front yard before slowly sinking down onto the top step of the porch. Hinata just plops down heavily, immediately leaning his chin into his hands and scowling out towards the street.

“Are you going to be okay out here?” Yuu asks, concerned.

“Hm?” Hinata hums, eyes pointed straight ahead.

“With all the grass and everything?”

Hinata wrinkles his nose and shifts his eyes briefly to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Didn't you just say—“ Yuu cuts himself off with a sigh, “never mind.”

_What a weirdo._

“So… um, fun party, huh?” Yuu asks stiffly to the side of Hinata’s face.

“Mm,” Hinata hums, eyes narrowing at nothing.

 _‘Kageyama and I are going to be best friends from now on,’_ is more likely. Or maybe, _‘Kageyama doesn't want to toss to you anymore, he's going to be tossing to me.’_

Hinata isn’t sure which one turns his stomach more and he hunches further forward, rubbing his hands up his face. But the latter doesn’t make sense. Yuu isn’t a—

_‘Kageyama and I are dating.’_

No. _No_ that can't possibly be it. It isn't. It isn't _anything_ like that.

_It might be something like that._

No it’s _not_ ; it’s not because that would mean that Kageyama liked boys, and Kageyama does _not_ like boys. He can’t possibly like boys. Because…

Because if he _did_ like boys then that means… that means Kageyama just doesn’t like _him_.

 _‘I don’t like_ _you.’_

But no. Kageyama doesn’t like boys because if he did—fuck, because Hinata _has_ to believe that Kageyama doesn’t like boys because the alternative would kill him.

But then what the hell is actually going on?!

For a long while Yuu doesn’t say anything else, and they just sit there in silence, Yuu fidgeting with his hands stuck in the pockets of his sweatshirt.

Hinata steels himself and turns towards the other, heart clenching as he lifts his face from his hands, wanting so badly to just get this over with already. He takes a deep breath and asks,

“What did you want to—“

“Do you want to do something after practice on Monday!?”

 

Hinata goes still, and then he cocks his head.

 

“Do something?” He asks after a pause  – more confused at the outburst than the question. “Like hang out?”

“Y-yeah…” Yuu swallows like he forgot how and concentrates hard on a spot on the steps in front of him.

“O-oh!” Hinata sits up, blinking at the first year. That certainly wasn’t what he expected.

“Um, well,” Hinata replies, scratching the back of his head, “yeah! I don’t see why not. Um, I mean, I don’t think I have any homework… well I guess I don’t know that yet, but I don’t usually get anything that’s due the next day on my Monday classes anyway, so I guess—“

“N-no!” Yuu says suddenly, face red and eyes shifting wildly everywhere except Hinata’s face. “I-I don’t mean hang out!”

Hinata looks back at him. He frowns. “Okay. So… you don’t want to, then?”

“No!” Yuu blurts again, waving his hands. “I mean, yes! Yes, I do but—not—ugh, I mean—“

“Yuu,” Hinata interrupts, squinting his eyes in confusion, “what’s going on?”

“I-I… well…”

Hinata bristles, “Do you want me to hang out with you and Kageyama or something? Because I am _not_ going to be some chaperone—”

“What?” Yuu finally looks at him, curling his lip. “No—what?”

Hinata purses his lips, brow furrowing. “Then what do you want?”

“Hinata…” Yuu whines, looking back at the ground. He looks like he’s about to throw up.

Several seconds tick by with Hinata suspiciously searching Yuu’s pained face for any indication at all about what this stupid boy is being all weird about.

And then, like a volleyball to the face

 

He gets it.

 

Hinata’s jaw drops open, and there’s a moment when he thinks his eyes might fall out of his head if he doesn’t reign in his shock, so he blinks and shakes his head.

“Yuu…” Hinata says slowly, mouth dry and an odd warmth creeping into his face, “are you…” he swallows, “asking me out?”

Yuu’s eyes get big, _huge_ actually, before they drop to his lap. He nods, just once.

“But…” Hinata says softly, face scrunching all up with confusion, “I thought that you… but… all that stuff… but— but Kageyama—“

 _Kageyama_.

Hinata sneers, stomach immediately twisting up into knots. He asks lowly,

“did Kageyama put you up to this?”

“Um, yeah, he—“

“What!?” Hinata cries, leaping to his feet and balling his fists. “I can’t--how could--how _dare_ he!”

He’s so hurt, so _furious_. How could Kageyama _mock_ him like this? This is beyond cruel, beyond anything Hinata ever believed that—

“I mean, no! No!” Yuu waves his hands in front of his face. “He didn’t put me up to it… not l-like that, s-sorry! But he… he’s been helping me. G-giving me advice. He convinced me to—“ he swallows, “to ask you.”

Hinata licks his dry lips. “Advice? You mean—“

“H-he’s your best friend, so I thought that…um,” Yuu covers his red face with his hands, “shit.”

“Kageyama told you to ask me out?”

“He said that… if I never said anything I would regret it.”

Hinata cocks his head. “He said that?”

Yuu drops his hands. “You do… like um, you are… g-gay, right?”

“What!?” Hinata cries again, this time collapsing heavily onto the step. “H-how do…who said—“

“I just thought it was common knowledge!” Yuu cries in return. “Oh god, are you not!? Fuck I didn’t—“

“No no. I…I am,” Hinata amends, “I never actually… _told_ anyone. I  just…I didn’t know people really…knew…” He tapers off, voice dying in his throat.

Kageyama. _Kageyama_ knows.

Oh _god,_ Kageyama _knows._

“S-so wait,” Hinata flaps his hands, shifting on the step to face the mortified, trembling boy, “that means… you are?”

“Well—uh—I-I…” Yuu stammers, wringing his hands and refusing to look Hinata in the face. “I guess? I… I don’t know, actually.”

Hinata just stares, awaiting elaboration.

“I do like girls… but I also um,” he scratches the back of his neck, peeking shyly over at Hinata. “I also like... you, too, I-I think.”

“You think?”

“I um—“ Yuu sighs heavily, dropping his hands into his lap and turning towards Hinata, eyes still lowered, “—I think about you a lot. I always want to impress you during practices… I’ve seen the way you look at Kageyama on the court so I thought—“

“That’s why you’ve been hanging out with him!” Hinata blurts in a breathless rush.

Yuu nods. “I thought…he could help me be a better player. I wanted—I thought maybe someday you’d look at me like that i-if… I got better.”

Hinata blinks, face blank as his mind tumbles and swirls, heart stretching in a thousand directions.

“Why?” Hinata finally whispers. “Why me?”

“Because you’re so cool!” Yuu replies immediately, like he's been waiting weeks to answer that question. “Everything you do is so…so like, _powerful_! The way you throw yourself into practices and games and the way you fly across the court is just so _amazing_ and inspiring and you’re always smiling and the way you talk to people like they’re so important and _special_ and you try so hard to get _better_ at everything, even the things you’re already _so good at_ ,  it’s all so… s-so…“

“ _That_ makes you want to go out with me?” Hinata wrinkles his nose.

“Yeah! Why wouldn’t it?”

“And you… like me? Maybe?”

Yuu looks off to the side and nods quickly. “I guess it’s obvious that I do… it’s just a little confusing, sometimes.”

“Well, yeah,” Hinata says, dazed. “I get that.”

Hinata stays silent for a solid minute after. He’s having difficulty processing all of this, and after spending so much time worrying about the literal _opposite_ of this situation… it feels a little like whiplash.

But then a small, barking laugh flies past his lips and he claps a hand over his mouth when wide and confused brown eyes meet his.

“Sorry!” Hinata apologizes from behind his palm. “It’s just that…I thought for so long that… you know what, never mind.” He drops his hand with a sharp clear of his throat.

But then he frowns. And suddenly his heart seizes.

_Shit._

“Oh… oh, Yuu… I don’t think—“

“Fuck,” Yuu groans, covering his eyes with his hand. “Hinata, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done this. I knew it was a bad idea! Kageyama was just so… he said all these things about regret and fear and I just thought I should at least try before—“

“Yuu!” Hinata interrupts, grabbing at Yuu’s arm to uncover his eyes. He clutches those trembling fingers with both hands. “I didn’t say no.”

Yuu freezes – if it’s at the gesture or the words, Hinata can’t be sure, but he’s staring down at where Hinata’s small hands are holding his.

“I-I didn’t say yes, either,” he adds quickly, “but… there’s something you should… probably know.”

Hinata drops his eyes too, gaze burning a hole into his own hand. It’s a little unsettling, the ease in which he’s able to touch someone like this when a little more than an hour ago, his swelling heart was pounding in his ears with Kageyama’s fingers laced through his own.

This must be what Kageyama feels when he touches Hinata.

Absolutely nothing.

Okay, no - it’s not that he feels _nothing._

But with Yuu’s hand held in his he just feels… sad. He takes a deep breath.

“I don’t think I can say yes.”

Hinata sees Yuu’s shoulders droop and he instantly feels a lump forming in his throat. But oddly enough, in that moment Hinata feels envious. He’d say he couldn’t imagine the courage it would take to do something like this, but he _can_ imagine it – and it’s so far beyond what he is capable of himself that he can’t help wishing so hard to be in Yuu’s shoes. To just find it inside himself to _try,_ even with knowing what he’s about to say.

“But… it’s not because you’re—um it’s…” Hinata sighs, frustrated with himself. “I’m not going to say ‘it’s not you, it’s me’, but—“

“No, it’s okay,” Yuu says softly, gently pulling his hand from Hinata’s. “I understand.”

“I don’t think you do…” Hinata replies hesitantly. “I… well, _now_ that I know that you and Kageyama aren’t—“   _in love, I don’t hate you anymore._ He clears his throat. “You’re cute. And Nice. A-and good at volleyball! Actually you’re… kind of, like, _really_ cute.” He says, studying Yuu’s face as if he’s just discovering all of this himself – because… he kind of is. “Anyone ever tell you that you look like Oikawa?”

“Who’s Oikawa?”

Hinata sighs. “Never mind. Ask Kageyama sometime. The point is, is that you’re like…” Hinata waves his hand vaguely in Yuu’s face, “obnoxiously attractive.”

Yuu blushes and grins down at the ground. “You don’t have to say stuff like that,” he mumbles through his smile.

And Hinata smiles in return. “It’s true! I kind of want to, like, hit you because of it. You’re _really_ … cute—” Hinata clears his throat, “a-and if things were different…”

“Different how?” Yuu looks up with those sad brown eyes, and Hinata’s heart falls to pieces.

But he knows he’s doing the right thing.

“Yuu…I—” Hinata swallows and squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t believe he’s about to say this. What kind of a monster says something like this to a person who just confessed their feelings? But it looks like it’s happening, because now that he started saying it he can’t stop,

“—I’m in love with Kageyama!”

The words flow out of him like he’s said them a thousand times before, and yet—

“Wow,” Hinata says so quietly, eyes still shut. “I’ve never actually said that before.”

He keeps his eyes closed for just a few seconds more, less to stave off the image of the inevitable pain etched in Yuu’s face and slightly more to just… _bask_ in his admission.

But when he wills his eyelids open he meets a completely different expression than he expected; Yuu is looking at him like a dog that just heard a whistle.

“You’re…” Yuu starts, his eyes widening with every passing second. “You mean… you love—oh my _god_!” He claps a hand over his mouth in horror. “Hinata! I had no idea, I swear I would have never—if I had known—if I had even _suspected_ I would have never—I’m _so sorry_!”

Hinata blinks. “Um… what exactly are you sorry f—”

“How could I have… oh god,” he buries his face in his hands, “I _asked_ him to help me... I’m so stupid, I can’t believe—it makes so much sense now! The way you guys look at each other, all those things that he—fuck, he must think that I’m awful. I can’t believe he didn’t say—“

“Whoa whoa Yuu!” Hinata interrupts, jumping to his feet on the steps and waving his arms crazily. “He doesn’t know!”

Yuu looks up at him, confused. “What?”

“Kageyama,” Hinata glances around nervously and drops his voice to a whisper, “h-he doesn’t know.”

“You never told him?”

“No! Are you nuts!? And keep your voice down!”

Yuu’s brows pinch. “Are you sure he doesn’t know?”

“Yes!”

Yuu looks out at the lawn, puzzled, before glancing back. “Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

“Uh, I don’t know, _all_ the reasons!?”

The first year is looking at him like he’s speaking another language, or like he’s trying to work something out. “But… you love him,” he says, though it seems more like he’s talking to himself.

“So what!? And anyway, shouldn’t you be like, _sad_ or something after—“

“Of course I’m a little sad, Hinata,” Yuu admits softly, leaning back on his hands and staring up at the redhead, “I’m not going to lie… I sort of want to cry right now,” he lowers his eyes and smiles, despite admitting this, “but I spent a lot of time thinking about it… and of all the ways I imagined you saying no, I definitely didn’t expect _that_. And… I don’t think I could come up with a better way to be rejected.”

Hinata balks. He’s fairly sure that’s the most Yuu has ever said to him all at once since they first met.

“And… you’ve really never told anyone that before?”

It takes Hinata a moment to understand Yuu’s question. But then,

“No,” Hinata says, staring at his feet. “I’ve never told anyone.”

“So…” Yuu bites his lip to hide a wide smile beneath teary eyes, “am I the only one who knows?”

“Well,” Hinata steps slowly back towards Yuu and sits close beside him, “ah… no, not exactly. Kenma kind of figured it out a while ago… but I never actually told him.”

Yuu chews his lip, staring out into the yard as a tear rolls down his cheek. Hinata’s heart twists, but then Yuu laughs, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“God, is it weird that I’m super happy to be the only one you’ve told?” He sniffs, looking over at Hinata with a watery smile. “It makes me feel— _ah!—“_

Yuu yelps when Hinata wraps his arms around his neck, crushing him into a hug.

“Shut up, stupid!” Hinata scolds. He drops his face to the first year’s shoulder, “I’m sorry this probably isn’t the best thing for me to do to you right now but please don’t cry and pretend to be happy! Please don’t do that!”

Hinata knows all too well that that feels like.

“I’m not pretending,” Yuu laughs again, bringing his arms up to return the hug. “I can cry about something that makes me sad and still be happy about something else. And, well, this is… really nice.”

Hinata giggles after a few breaths and squeezes tightly. “I just hope you really understand… if things really were different—“

“I know,” Yuu says, breaking the hug to look Hinata in the face. “I wouldn’t feel right um, dating someone either if I was in love with someone else… it wouldn’t be fair. To, um, them.”

Hinata nods vigorously, relieved and a little proud of his underclassman.

“But…” Yuu continues, “honestly I’m sort of surprised.”

“About what?” Hinata asks.

“I can’t picture you keeping quiet about something like that… it’s one of the reasons that… you know…”

Hinata arches a brow.

“That I… like you.”

“Oh. Well it's… it’s sort of complicated,” Hinata mumbles, looking down at the porch.

“How?”

“How do you think?! Kageyama doesn’t—he—isn’t—“

“You don’t think he might feel that way, too?”

Hinata snorts. “He helped you ask me out,” he reminds him.

“Yeah but… that doesn’t mean—“

“It _does_ ,” Hinata insists. “That, and all the million other things that mean he would never want to, like, be with me, or whatever,” he finishes quietly.

To this, Yuu sighs.

“A-and I’ve actually decided to try—to _really_ try to get over it! _Him._ I mean. To get over _him._ ” Hinata adds, forcing an air of pride into his assertion.

Yuu looks up hopefully.

“You’ll be the first one to know when that happens.” Hinata smiles, reaching out to squeeze the first year’s shoulder. He frowns a little at the firmness of of, biting his lip when he lets his fingers linger a little too long over the swell of a lean bicep.

“I won’t hold my breath,” Yuu sniffs through a simper as Hinata snatches his hand back in a completely casual kind of way. “You guys would make, like, the perfect couple.”

Hinata rolls his eyes, hard, but he can’t help the pink that blooms in his cheeks.

There are just a couple more tears (Hinata remembers the toilet paper in his pocket) and one more hug, and Hinata promises that they can practice volleyball anytime Yuu wants, and _yes of course_ they are going to be friends.

They stand and turn to go in, Hinata giggling at the blush spreading across Yuu’s cheeks at the mention of the tree incident from earlier and Yuu throws his used tissues into Hinata’s face. To this, Hinata grabs the tissues from the ground and leaps onto Yuu’s back, mashing them onto his head and trying to get them into his mouth while Yuu yells and thrashes around. This boisterous affair carries on for quite some time, until the door opens and closes with a bang.

They freeze.

“Kageyama!” Hinata yelps, pieces of shredded toilet paper fluttering to the ground. Hinata squeezes his arms around Yuu’s neck and ducks his head for safety.

Kageyama’s mouth opens and closes, eyes jumping from Yuu’s face to Hinata clinging to his back like a monkey, and then he frowns, eyes flashing.

He growls at Hinata,

“As adorable as this is, it’s _my_ turn to talk.”

Hinata swallows awkwardly and nods, climbing down slowly off the first year. Yuu gives one last backwards, sad yet reassuring glance at Hinata before skirting away from the fire in Kageyama’s eyes, ducking back into the house.

Kageyama stares Hinata down, nostrils flaring in clear anger and then

“YOU DUMBASS!”

 

* * *

 

**A half an hour-ish earlier:**

Kageyama sniffs quietly, wiping away a few remaining tears while he still has the dark living room to himself. Good timing, too, because—

“So where’s the windup toy?” Tsukishima’s obnoxious voice slithers into his personal space as he folds his dinosaur body onto the couch beside him.

Kageyama clicks his tongue and folds his arms across his chest. “Fuck off, Tsukishima.”

Tsukishima laughs and leans back into the couch, cradling the back of his head in his hands. “So this is your endgame, huh? Your brilliant exit strategy?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kageyama grumbles. He stares hard at the edge of the coffee table.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, _your_ _majesty._ ”

“Fuck off,” Kageyama repeats, rising to his feet with every intention of getting the fuck out of there.

“You’re really going to do that to him?” Tsukishima says with a smirk, his eyes following Kageyama as he crosses in front of the couch.

“I’m not doing _anything_ to _anyone!_ ” Kageyama growls, rounding on his teammate. He hopes to god it doesn’t look like he’s been crying, because Tsukishima might be the last person he’d ever want to explain that to.

And he squashes down the knowledge that he probably wouldn’t have to.

But Tsukishima just _smirks_ up at him in that…that _way._

“You think this pathetic display of self-loathing is fooling anyone?” He laughs. “Are you even fooling yourself at this point?”

Kageyama’s nostrils flare in anger, but still, he stays. God help him – Tsukishima has his attention, but he’ll be damned if he lets the smug fuck know that. He stares down at those cold golden eyes, chest rising and falling with seething, labored breaths. “What!?” He snaps.

“Now now,” The blond coos, letting his eyes slide closed, “no reason to get so excited. Gotta keep up that whole knightly façade and all, right?”

Kageyama feels a rage building in the back of his head, those tears long forgotten as he balls his fists at his sides.

 _Hit him._ _No one will give a shit if you hit him._

“Mmm… no,” Tsukishima says, feigning contemplation and eyes popping open, “no, that’s not right. Going from some bitter tyrant to a noble martyr? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Tsukishima,” Kageyama growls, eyes narrowing, “I don’t know what the hell you—“

“You’re not worried about hurting him,” The blond grins, pausing for dramatic effect. “You’re terrified that he’s going to leave you, too.”

Kageyama freezes.

“And… what? You're trying to break it off before he does? As if that’s going to soften anything.”

Then he blinks. Neurons fire into empty static as his brain short circuits.

And then something pulls tight inside his gut; his world tilts, heaving on its axis.

“Poor lonesome king,” the jackass tuts his tongue. “Though I must say, I don’t blame you. It’s only a matter of time, after all. There’s only so much he can take.” Tsukishima leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees and sticking his fists beneath his chin as he looks up at Kageyama. “But, man, are you ever going to catch a break? Those guys from your old team were bad enough, but what are the odds your shrimp of a volleyball partner would end up just like—“

“He, is _nothing_ like them!” Kageyama snarls, eyes narrowed and burning as he snaps back into consciousness. It didn’t even register with Kageyama that his body moved, but it had; with his fist wound tight in Tsukishima’s collar and his face an inch from the other’s  he fumes, hot puffs of air forced from his nose as he tightens his grip.

“Then why are you treating him like he is?”

_...oh._

There’s a pause, and then the setter’s breath catches and his eyes snap open wide. Tsukishima’s own face is blank, emotionless.

Blinking dumbly, Kageyama releases the blond’s shirt in his stupor. He turns and falls heavily back onto the couch, staring straight ahead.

“You look like you’re in rictus.”

“I don’t…” Kageyama frowns at the empty space in front of him, eyes unfocused “…know what you’re talking about.” He doesn’t know why he’s still trying.

“You do,” Tsukishima snorts, getting to his feet. “And you deserve to be miserable. See you around.”

“Wait,” Kageyama says. He can’t even muster the energy to hate himself for asking this asshole for anything.

A thin brow arches and Tsukishima turns, smug, but surprised.

He can feel desperation working its way onto his face and he doesn’t care, blue eyes flick upwards, pleading.

“How did you figure it out?”

Tsukishima frowns. “Figure what out?”

“You know,” Kageyama’s voice wavers with his vague answer. “You’ve known for a long time. How?”

And Tsukishima straightens up, lifting his chin. “You mean, that the king found his queen?”

Kageyama scowls and lowers his eyes to his lap. “Don’t call him that,” he says through grit teeth.

But Tsukishima rolls his eyes and slowly sinks back onto the couch. He crosses his arms, leaning back into the cushions. “The midget is dumb, but I can’t believe _he_ hasn’t figured it out by now.”

“I _know_ ,” Kageyama agrees, again through his teeth.

“Idiot,” Tsukishima mutters with a click of his tongue.

Kageyama flops against the back of the couch, scowling up at the ceiling. He could probably still hit him if he wanted to. Just for the hell of it. “So what if you’re… _right_?” he asks instead, like the foul words are acid in his mouth. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing wrong with—“

“What? Protecting yourself from the only human on the planet who wouldn't leave your sorry ass?” Tsukishima chuckles. “Gross.”

“…not wanting to ruin his life by being in it.”

Tsukishima feigns a gag. But then he laughs. “Oh come on. You’re not that important.”

Kageyama’s face whips around, eyes flashing.

“Apparently you think I'm wrong,” the blond says with a smirk. “Interesting.”

Kageyama jerks back to facing front. He doesn't enjoy this feeling at all… like he's losing some type of _game_ or something to this asshole.

“I didn't think his royal highness was capable of such complex emotion,” Tsukishima continues with a sickening lilt to his voice. “God, you’re a mess. You're _so special_ that you could cripple him for life, and yet you're _so undeserving_ of his love that—“

“He does _not_ …l-love me.” Kageyama falters in his assertion, swallowing the unfamiliar taste of that word on his tongue.

Tsukishima snorts. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“Why do you even care?” Kageyama asks with a defeated grumble, rubbing his hands up his face and twining his fingers into his hair as he slumps forward.

“Have you even thought for a second what this is going to do to the team?”

Kageyama sighs. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

When Tsukishima doesn't answer, Kageyama lolls his head to the side to look at him. Gold eyes regard him warily.

“Are you asking me for advice?”

Kageyama pointedly looks away with a deep furrow of embarrassment pinched in his brow.

“No,” he grinds out.

“Well, an apology would make for a good opener,” Tsukishima advises anyway, “for… what was that you said, again? Right before begging him not to leave?”

“Fuck yourself, Tsukishima,” Kageyama says with a deep, sad sigh, lifting himself off the couch. “Why were you even listening?”

“You two idiots can't seem to grasp the concept of ' _i_ _ndoor voice''_. It was impossible not to,” he replies with a scoff, “like I give a shit about your lover’s spat.”

Kageyama groans and rubs his eyes before looking around the room.

“Where did you chase him off to, anyway?” Tsukishima asks.

“I—“

But a shrieking cackle from the front porch bleeds through the walls, answering that question and Kageyama suddenly feels his heart sink towards his feet.

_Oh no…_

Tsukishima pins him with a look, curious and mildly surprised. “He doesn’t sound too upset,” he says.

“He… wasn’t,” Kageyama replies, eyes boring holes through the front door, his stomach churning.

“Even _he_ knows you’re full of shit.”

 _I fucked up_ , Kageyama thinks, blood running ridiculously cold.

“I fucked up,” he says, softly.

“Obviously. And he’ll forgive you,” Tsukishima says with a smirk and yet with more sincerity he’s ever heard from the mother fucker. He must have imagined it.

“Not that, idiot,” Kageyama answers his stupid imagination out loud, anyway. He might actually throw up.

Because now, images he had somehow suppressed are presently worming their way into every crevice of his brain, seeping up between the folds and looming, hanging there on display as if in some sadistic museum.

Because apparently he hadn’t quite thought about the ramifications of what might be taking place outside. Sure, helping Yuu date Hinata made for a decent first step in his plan to cut ties with the fucking love of his life before he managed to destroy both of their lives, but Yuu dating Hinata means that Yuu is going to… _date_ _Hinata._

And that includes all of the things that happen to go along with it.

Tsukishima follows his pained gaze, staring at the door as a shrill string of giggles hits Kageyama like a punch to the gut.

Someone else is going to be holding his hand, making him laugh and smile in that _way_ he does, that way that makes Kageyama’s heart hurt in the most beautiful way – that way that had previously been reserved just for _him_ , but now someone _else_ will be the recipient of that gift, watching those lips push up into his cheeks and lighting his entire face and fucking _kissing—_

“Who is he out there with?” Tsukishima asks.

But this is what he wanted.

Kageyama claps a hand firmly over his mouth, swallowing back the sickness threatening to burble up.

He sinks back onto the couch and cradles his face in his hands.

 _Someone else’s_ fingers in that fiery hair, gentle hands roaming, smoothing over his pale, freckle kissed skin, lips grazing flushed cheeks, eager hands tugging at his clothes—

“Are you alright?”

“His boyfriend,” Kageyama tries for a growl but it comes out as more of a pinched whine. “He’s out there with his fucking _boyfriend_.”

But this is what he wanted. This is what _he_ wanted; Yuu was safe. Yuu would treat the little shit like he deserves to be treated, never shoving him away or yelling or making him question his worth. Showing him love where Kageyama never could. But how is he going to survive having it waved in his face every goddamn day until graduation? Oh god – what if he still wants to hang around with Kageyama? To still eat lunch or walk home together while he blathers on and on about every disgusting, intimate detail about his blossoming relationship? Calling him up one night after he and Yuu let things get a little too out of hand, and now he’s forced to listen to that embarrassed little voice peep _‘Kageyama… how do I know if I’m ready to—‘_

But the sound of Tsukishima’s abrupt, barking laughter derails that nauseating train and sends it careening off into a flaming eruption of scorching rage.

Kageyama picks his head up sharply, glaring hard as the jackass clutches his stomach, shaking the whole goddamn couch with the force of his laughter.

“You—you—“ he struggles to talk through the hilarity, “a-are the most—“ but he can’t do it, so instead he just flops over onto his side, head landing dangerously close to Kageyama’s thigh. The setter jumps up, grimacing as if the boy is made of snakes.

He watches Tsukishima burn out his laughing fit with a confused frown dragging down his face and anger sparking in his eyes, annoyance smoothing out the rough edges of the agony wracking his tired body.

“—you’re the most—dramatic—pathetic—I swear—“ Tsukishima continues to try to speak through the actual tears now spilling down his cheeks, shoving his glasses up his forehead to wipe at his eyes as he sits up, face red and lips stretched wide into a crazy grin. “There’s no—there’s _no_ way—he-he would _never—_ “

“What the fuck is your problem!?” Kageyama snarls.

“If that’s the case—oh man— _god_ —“ Tsukishima sniffs, his laughter ebbing to an easy titter, “—if that’s actually the case, I’ll buy you milk every day until we graduate.”

Kageyama’s face burns with some terrible mixture of anger and sickness and confusion as he opens his mouth to tell Tsukishima to fuck off for the hundredth time that day, but what comes out instead is a meager and helpless,

“What?”

“I don’t know what happened or what you’re blaming yourself for now,” Tsukishima sniffs again and fixes his glasses back to his face, “but unless through the sheer magnitude of your idiocy you have somehow achieved bilocation,” he rises to his feet, “you’re not giving the shrimp enough credit.”

The deep crease in Kageyama’s brow deepens further as he watches, silent and immobile, the other stroll back towards the kitchen.

“I don’t give a shit about your love life,” he says, pausing at the doorway, “but I can’t stand by while you damage the team just because you’re too near-sighted to see what the rest of us have known for months. Apologize or don’t, I don’t really care,” he says before turning away. “But next time you feel like crying alone in the dark, make sure I’m not around to see it. It’s sickening.”

“You’re wrong,” Kageyama says weakly to Tsukishima’s back.

“Milk for the rest of your life, if I am,” Tsukishima says. “About any of it.”

And then he’s gone.

Kageyama lets the caustic words eat slowly under his skin as he blinks down at the carpet. If Tsukishima is right about _anything_ , it’s that he is most certainly ‘a mess’.

_‘Then why are you treating him like he is?’_

_Shit._

_‘Apologize.’_

Pressing his mouth into a hard line while the sound of giddy laughter oozes through the walls again, Kageyama clenches his fists at his sides. He swallows down the misery and the fear, the nagging hope that maybe that smirking asshole might be right about the frivolity he can so plainly hear taking place out on the porch.

After all, it isn’t unlike the dumbass to chortle and squawk and celebrate the tiniest, most insignificant little things. Maybe he found a cool rock or something, or a dog walked by or he remembered that food exists or--

And so he holds onto that thought as he steels himself, bracing himself against something anyway as he walks stiffly towards the door. He takes a deep breath before yanking it open and stepping through.

He slams it just a little too hard behind him.

And his stomach bottoms out, crashing to the floor along with his heart.

_I was wrong._

Because Yuu looks _happy_ – and shit, why wouldn’t he with Hinata latched onto his back like that, pealing with laughter and…

_Toilet paper?_

They freeze, both wide-eyed as they stare at Kageyama with despair and heartbreak likely carved deep into his face. He sees Hinata swallow thickly, and he feels something stretch tight inside him, pulling thinner and thinner until it frays. But something in Hinata’s wide brown eyes holds it together.

Kageyama drags in a breath, ignoring the burn behind his eyes and the swelling ache in his throat.

“As adorable as this is,” he hears himself say, voice a faraway rumble in his ears, “it’s _my_ turn to talk.”

Kageyama keeps his eyes pinned to the first year as Hinata climbs down off his back, all too familiar with how warm Hinata probably felt against him like that, imagining the press of those strong legs wrapped around his waist.

And it’s all his fault.

He turns back to Hinata once Yuu scampers by, pulling in another breath around that rising lump in his throat and—

“YOU DUMBASS!”

Kageyama’s eyes shoot open, round and ridiculously wide as Hinata launches towards him, screeching and shoving him hard in the chest. His back crashes against the side of the house and the backs of his hands smack against the cold siding beside his face while shaking little fists wind tight into his sweatshirt.

“How could you _do_ that to me!?” Hinata cries, furious and red faced. “To _him_!?”

“W-what—I—“

“Is there _anything_ besides volleyball in that stupid—I can’t—how could—“ Hinata’s voice goes high and thin. “Why—“ he squeaks, dropping his head against Kageyama’s chest.

“Why what!?” Kageyama cries down at red hair, his pulse nothing more than a hum droning away in his ears.  

“Why wouldn’t you tell me,” Hinata sobs, weakly shaking his fists in Kageyama's hoodie.

“I-I couldn’t,” Kageyama stammers. “He begged me not to. I just thought—“

“ _Did_ you!?” Hinata raises his head, eyes rimmed red and shiny with so many tears. “Did you _think,_ you stupid—“ his voice falls away when shuddering sob rolls through his body. He drops his arms and lets them hang limply at his side as he cries, eyes squeezed shut and face aimed at their feet.

“Why are you so upset?” Kageyama asks, staring dumbly at the top of Hinata’s head.

“You--” he sobs, “--you _wouldn’t_ know, would you?”

“I don’t understand,” Kageyama says softly, voice barely audible as he helplessly watches Hinata cry. “Please I… I just don’t... understand.”

Everything inside Kageyama is screaming to pull the idiot into his arms, but he can’t. He’s frozen – rooted to the wood of the porch like a big dumb lifeless tree.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he finally manages a rasp of a whisper.

Hinata scrubs at his eyes with his sleeve and sniffs loudly, digging a wad of toilet paper from his pocket and pressing it haphazardly to his face. “What are you sorry for,” he asks to the floor; though it’s less of a question than this terrible, biting testimony - vicious and accusatory.

“For… saying all those things,” Kageyama swallows and takes a tiny, shaky step forward, “and—“

“And?” Hinata looks up with huge, wet eyes.

“A-and,” he stammers, “I don’t… I don’t know,” Kageyama finishes with a scowl aimed towards the street.

“I know you don't.” Hinata sniffs again, wiping away as many tears as he can. He sighs.

And then he smiles, big and watery. It’s so sad and so awful and so fake and it takes all of Kageyama’s self-control to not scream at him to stop it. So he does the next best thing.

Again, Kageyama isn’t even aware of the movement of his body until Hinata emits a muffled little eek of surprise against his chest, the setter’s arms circling around him, crushing them together. And unlike the last time this happened back in the club room, Kageyama actually _waits_ for those hesitant little fingers to climb up his back and wind into his shirt, letting Hinata hug him in return.

_‘Think of it as a goodbye.’_

And, damn, Hinata hugs _tight._

They stand there, small fingers flexing and curling against Kageyama's back, Hinata all warm and soft and still sniffling ever so quietly. But the reminder that Hinata isn't _his_ to hold like this pulls heavy inside him.

“You better not be getting snot all over me,” Kageyama gripes, suppressing the urge to let his face fall into soft orange hair.

Hinata retorts with something that comes out completely muffled before he head-butts Kageyama’s collarbone the best he can without moving back too far, so really it's just a tiny upward shove with his forehead.

“Are you sure your boyfriend isn’t going to mind this?” Kageyama mutters with Hinata’s cheek pressed against his hammering heart, uncaring, really, for the moment that touching him like this is probably frowned upon; because just _let him have this for a second, goddammit._ If this is the best he’ll ever get, he’s going to savor it - just for another second, another minute--

But Hinata doesn’t allow that.

“Boyfriend!?” Hinata pushes away, hands gripped tight to Kageyama’s forearms, holding him back and away, eyes narrowed and accusing. “You think… you _really_ think I said yes?”

Kageyama blinks. He blinks again. “Why wouldn’t you?”

He watches as Hinata’s mouth works uselessly, opening and closing silently while gears whir and spin in his head. He steps back and crosses his arms.

“How stupid are you, exactly?” Hinata asks. It's not quite an insult, not with that tone and that little smirk working over his lips.

And Kageyama bristles despite a lightness welling up in his chest.

“I spent _days_ thinking…” Hinata lets his voice stall and drops his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing tiredly. “Never mind. No. _No_ I didn’t say yes, you gigantic ass.”

Kageyama immediately drops his gaze, eyes darting around the porch as he lets this information sink in. He licks his dry lips and then hangs his head further, breathing out the shortest, most pathetic cough of a laugh.

“Okay, then,” He says, forcing what is supposed to be a scowl on to his face, but he might have failed at that somewhere along the way.

“Okay then,” Hinata repeats, cocking his head, red eyes glued to his face.

There’s a silence, then, and Kageyama thinks hard about what to say next. All that leaden fear, the oppressive sickness that boiled over inside him starts to melt away, draining down and out of his heavy heart to make way for this _new_ feeling trickling in.

He can feel Hinata’s eyes all over him, scrutinizing and questioning. He wants to tell him he's glad, _relieved_ ; which would inevitably lead to questions and stunted, vague answers that would lead to more confusion and more questions that might actually possibly lead to Kageyama explaining it all, admitting everything here on this porch in the middle of the night because _why not -_ why _wouldn't_ this be the perfect venue to finally come clean about all the shit that’s been knocking around inside his head, after the night they had together, with Hinata’s blood still on his sleeve and snot and tears on his chest and all this _emotion_ swirling and fizzing and he opens his mouth to finally say _something_ and—

Nothing comes out.

‘ _God, you're a mess.’_

“Look, Kageyama,” Hinata says instead, rubbing the back of his neck as tears dry on his face, “I wish you would have… I don’t know, _said_ something to me.”

Kageyama frowns. “I… just told you, he asked me not to.”

“Not… _that_ ,” Hinata says, eyes focused on something behind Kageyama’s head, “even though you _should_ have told me that, anyway.”

“Then what do you mean?”

Hinata looks zoned out, staring or thinking, Kageyama isn’t sure which.

“Nothing,” he finally says, dropping his hand and meeting Kageyama’s confused eyes. “Never mind.”

Kageyama nods, uncaring about what Hinata means, really. And who cares if he can't find it in himself to admit everything tonight, anyway? Because, honestly, he’s too busy enjoying the thrum of relief buzzing through his body, humming along his spine and wrapping his heart in several layers of elation, of optimism, of—

“What’s your face doing?”

“Shut up,” Kageyama says, biting his lip, hand shooting out to half-ruffle, half- squeeze Hinata’s hair.

The soft bubbling laughter that follows flips Kageyama's stomach again and again. Who _cares_ if he can't say it all tonight - he has _time_ now. A _chance._

 _Yeah but a chance at_ what, _exactly?_

“So…” Hinata says slowly, smoothing down his hair after Kageyama releases him, “why would you say something like that, anyway?”

Kageyama’s face falls. He didn't realize he had been smiling, still. “Like what?” He asks stupidly.

Hinata bites his lip and looks away, but Kageyama already saw the pain in his eyes. And a hiccup of pain of his own burbles back up into his chest.

“I was just… tired,” Kageyama winces at his pathetic excuse, “and… drank… too much.”

 _You know,_ tons _of chances to just hurt him again._

Hinata exhales forcefully. For a moment, Kageyama thinks he’s going to push the issue, to justifiably ask _why_ of all the things to say when one is drunk that Kageyama would choose _that._ But,

“Yeah,” he says instead, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. “I figured. How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” Kageyama answers far too quickly.

_Chances to disappoint him._

“So… we’re okay then?” Hinata asks softly. “You don’t… dislike—“

“Of course not,” Kageyama interrupts.

“And I’m not,” an adorable blush spreads over the bridge of Hinata’s nose, “too _clingy_?”

_Chances to let him down._

“Ah—no,” Kageyama jams his hands in his pockets, scowling as he looks away. “I don’t… I didn’t mean that.”

Hinata chews on the inside of his cheek, eyes pointed again towards the side of the house.

“Good,” he finally says, looking back up at Kageyama with a huge grin lighting his tear-streaked face. “Now you can make it up to me,” he says, pushing past the setter and pausing with his hand on the doorknob.

“Uh… how?” Kageyama asks nervously, blinking at the other while he opens the door.

“I saw that scary game you brought,” Hinata looks back with a sly little smirk. “And you can keep me company while I play it.”

“Hinata,” Kageyama forges a groan, rubbing his eyes to hide the smile tugging at his lips, “it’s like two in the morning.”

“Well, good!” Hinata spins back around, sticking his hands on his hips. “You can watch me play until you fall asleep. Serves you right if you get nightmares!”

Kageyama scowls despite the giddiness spreading through his chest. “ _You’ll_ be the one with nightmares!” He snaps, stuffing his hand into red hair and shoving his way past Hinata and into the house.

“Don’t worry, Scaredy-yama,” Hinata giggles from behind him, “I’ll sleep next to you and protect you from monsters~”

Kageyama facepalms as he leads the way to the game room, past a couple party guests already bundled in sleeping bags on the living room floor.

But really, he’s thrilled to know that things are still normal with Hinata’s warm little hands shoving against his back as they make their way into the dark, empty sunroom – _‘lights off,_ stupid! _Don't you know anything about setting the mood!?’ -_ Hinata will continue to be embarrassing and oblivious, he’ll keep smiling those smiles despite Kageyama being a massive asshole, and everything will ultimately be okay if Hinata continues to forgive him--

_Except one day he won’t._

But maybe tomorrow Kageyama can get himself together. Maybe tomorrow he’ll think again about all those dumb things that Tsukishima said that he still can’t wrap his head around, and maybe tomorrow Kageyama won’t hate himself quite as much when he thinks about all the ways he’s hurt the dumbass--

 _Oh how_ easy _it is to forget._

But… but no.

 _Stop it,_ he scolds himself.

After feeling what it might be like to lose him to _someone else_ – and alright, yeah, he does feel a little bad for Yuu after…

_Wait._

Kageyama frowns, watching messy hair flop around as Hinata bounces back to Kageyama excitedly after popping in the game and clapping at the demonic groan of the start menu rumbling through the surround-sound, all dorky little _‘oo’_ s and _‘ah_ ’s as he wiggles, situating himself on the floor next to Kageyama against the base of a large couch.

What he saw when he walked out onto the porch certainly didn’t reflect any heartbreak or rejection, and after all that Yuu said to him about how much he liked Hinata...

Kageyama’s stomach clenches.

Did Hinata lie to him?

“Did you buy this just for me?” Hinata looks up, all wide eyes shining with awe in the bluish haze of the tv.

Please. Hinata couldn’t lie to save his life.

Blue eyes roll away above pinked cheeks, hidden in the dark.

“Shut up, dumbass.”

“ _Uwaahh –_ so expensive!”

“It wasn’t that—“ Kageyama starts violently at a jump scare at the opening cutscene, hand flying up so fast he smashes himself in the face with his palm. “It’s an old game,” he grinds out over Hinata’s furious giggles.

“It’s okay, Tobio,” Hinata coos, absently scooting over and pressing back against Kageyama’s shoulder, leaning into him, “I told you I’d protect you.”

“Mm,” Kageyama hums contentedly for some reason, though he was going for more of a disgruntled noise, dropping his hand from his face to covertly watch Hinata’s small nail-bitten fingers twitch over the controller, his little tongue poking out between his lips once he gets lost in the action.

Eventually Hinata shimmies again, his head dropping back just a little to rest on Kageyama’s shoulder, though whether it was intentional or not, Kageyama can't be sure - he sees that sleepy droop to brown eyes as he battles monsters through foggy streets.

Yeah, maybe tomorrow Kageyama will wake up with Hinata wrapped up in his arms again, or maybe he’ll find the courage to corner him, to grab him and kiss him and yell all his feelings in crazed desperation.

 _Right,_ he sighs sadly to himself _._

Just because his feelings changed - just because now he's felt the misery of having lost Hinata, albeit short lived - doesn't mean the situation is any different at all.

He's still who he is; still the horrible monster he’s always been.

 _But…_ He thinks, brow crinkling at the familiar tendril of hopelessness threading through his chest, _but… no…_

 _‘’No’ what?’_ He hears Tsukishima’s mocking voice in his head. _‘You managed to hurt him by helping someone ask him out. Way to go. How does one even_ do _that?’_

How indeed.

_‘Face it, it's only a matter of time.’_

Yeah - and maybe tomorrow Kageyama will finally destroy everything.

_‘Hey, at least you'll be getting milk out of the deal.’_

He sighs again, defeated, warm breath ruffling orange locks at his shoulder. He’s so exhausted - emotionally, mostly, though mentally and physically as well.

And for now, he’s done thinking about tomorrow.

He drops his head slowly, cheek resting gently against Hinata’s soft hair and he closes his eyes. He hears a quiet little catch of breath and feels Hinata stiffen just a bit, fingers quieting over the joysticks and Kageyama is pretty sure his character just fell down a pit and died, but the moment passes quickly and Hinata relaxes, tucking himself back against Kageyama and breathing slow and steady.

Because for now, he’s just going to savor this - what he has. And it will be okay. This is okay.

 

For as long as Hinata allows it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @nekolyssi did it AGAIN and illustrated [The Tsukishima Chat scene](https://nekolyssi.tumblr.com/post/158903788731/but-the-sound-of-tsukishimas-abrupt-barking) and forced me to actually SEE what I'm putting poor Kageyama through D: the boy looks so wrecked and Tsukkiiiiii what a jerk face GO LOOK. God I love her so much (/^▽^)/
> 
> And GUYS! Biscuit drew YUU!! YUU AND HINATA!! [They look SO HAPPY and Yuu looks like such a darling bab I'm crying (the toilet paper is just too much :DD)](http://sparkelingsparkles.tumblr.com/post/158942046011/this-scene-of-the-last-binding-problem-chapter-by) There were actual tears when I saw this, it's so perfect :')) 
> 
> Holy shit, @Jaybele drew [poor sad Hinata](http://jaybele.tumblr.com/post/158969411812/cause-of-death-binding-problem-stop) and I'm DYING FROM ALL THE EMOTIONS it's BEAUTIFUL and TRAGIC and I am dying all the deaths all the goddamn time every time I look at it it's too much for me to handle D,:   
>  
> 
> Sigh. Parts of this chapter have been written since July, so it feels REALLY fantastic to be posting finally!
> 
> SO! A lot of people have been wondering how many chapters are left, and all I can give is my best guess at the moment... which is around 10 more? At LEAST 10!?
> 
> Again, all my gratitude to my betas @fuckthewaveringwood and @rukiahitchiin for editing and proofing and telling me when shit makes no sense, and another extra special thanks to @nekolyssi for schooling me on the actual color of Tsukishima's eyes <3 ;) color is... not one of my strong suits so THANK YOU for that, AND for confirming that my Tsukki isn't wildly OOC or just shitty in general :D


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone missed the amazing art from the last chapter, @nekolyssi perfectly illustrated the [Kageyama-Tsukki chat session](https://nekolyssi.tumblr.com/post/158903788731/but-the-sound-of-tsukishimas-abrupt-barking), Biscuit (@sparkelingsparkles) gave us the first incredible glimpse of [sweet baby boy Yuu](http://sparkelingsparkles.tumblr.com/post/158942046011/this-scene-of-the-last-binding-problem-chapter-by), and @jaybele ruined my life with [poor sad Hinata in the bathroom D:](http://jaybele.tumblr.com/post/158969411812/cause-of-death-binding-problem-stop). Holy shit guys you are all too wonderful for words :')
> 
>  
> 
> Alright so... what follows here was meant to be a silly little filler chapter but then I accidentally made it sort of important to the fucking plot.
> 
> It hasn't been beta-ed because I just finished it today and wanted to post it IMMEDIATELY so I can work on end of the semester school shit without obsessing over it, and it's a huge dick move to say "HEY DO THIS NOW THANKS" to other busy people so I've tried to avoid that. But @fuckthewaveringwood and @rukiahitachiin continue to be awesome so I'm thanking them anyway :D
> 
> Sigh. Poor Tobio.

Things are not okay.

Not in any way he can put his finger on (quite literally actually, he hasn’t touched Hinata in _days_ , not since the party) but Kageyama can sense that things are… different.

It’s this _thing_ that’s not quite tangible – it’s elusive and vague, and every time he comes close to grasping it Hinata will flash him a blinding smile and it retreats into the ether and Kageyama is again convinced that it’s all just been in his head. A flickering shadow of a feeling, biting along the edge of his vision but skittering away when he turns to look.

He feels like he’s going insane. And for more than one reason.

It’s been six days since the party; five days since Kageyama awoke on the couch in Tanaka’s sun room with his sleeping bag dotingly draped over him and the hazy impression that he hadn’t been alone for long. His arm was asleep, for one – a useless noodle of prickling dead weight when he flopped it over his own chest. But _how_ it fell asleep when he was lying on his back with his hand hanging limply over the edge of the cushions suggests that something, or  _someone_ had been the cause of all the paralysis.

And when he pressed his face into the pillow with a loud groan, he could smell Hinata’s shampoo, the smoky scent of fire and just a little bit of sweat still lingering.

_‘Think of it as a goodbye.’_

He laid there for far too long, he knows, face pushed into the pillow and trying desperately to remember some piece of the night that hung somewhere between dozing off on the floor in the glow of the television and waking with the sense that his arm was amputated.

Heavy little shit.

But he couldn't. After finally succumbing to the weight of his exhaustion, too much alcohol and even more guilt, his mind was wiped clean.

Hinata slept with him, and he can't remember anything.

_‘Think of it as a goodbye.’_

Except _that_.

But _why_ that phrase keeps ringing in his ears, he can’t be sure.

Okay yeah, he _did_ say that to Hinata the night before, when Hinata mentioned that hug back in the club room which felt like _ages_ ago. It was hardly the last thing Kageyama had said to him that night, and so much happened since then. The emotional rollercoaster he rode the rest of the evening should have acted as enough of a distraction to have shoved that into the back of his mind.

Alright, so that’s _one_ thing that’s been bothering him since the party.

And then there’s been this… this _other_ thing _._ Kageyama has been hesitant to call it a ‘distance’, because it isn’t like Hinata has been avoiding him, but like he said… he hasn’t touched Hinata since the wee-hours of Sunday morning.

And now it’s Thursday.

And it’s certainly not from lack of trying.

Monday morning Kageyama waited around the gate of the school.  

Waited.

Waited.

And fucking _waited_.

Until he couldn’t wait any longer without being late for practice. But, when made his way to the gymnasium Hinata was already there.

Spiking tosses from _Yuu._

Fucking _Yuu._

Though Hinata had smiled and greeted Kageyama with a warm and welcoming _‘Good morning!’_ and a big shit-eating grin right before Ennoshita called practice to order. As if nothing was wrong – like there was nothing out of the ordinary, like they’ve never not waited for each other barring those occasions when they’ve been actively arguing or fighting (or after almost kissing or whatever), like making super secret practice plans with the guy who confessed his feelings two goddamn nights before is totally, absolutely _normal._

But fuck, Hinata couldn’t have at least _texted him_ that shit!?

But luckily, Monday morning just seemed to be some freak occurrence – so yeah, things _were_ totally, completely normal – as they still raced to the gym the rest of the week, they still ate lunch together and walked home every evening, and Hinata held no reservations about telling Kageyama how great Yuu was getting at setting and serving, that Kageyama is such an amazing teacher and maybe one day he should consider a career as a coach. Kageyama did his best not to boil over with jealousy at that first part.

Even if it’s his own damn fault.

And every lick of conversation pertaining to the party was fond and happy and rambling (the word ‘conversation’ may be a bit of a stretch, since Kageyama hadn’t gotten a word in… not that he wanted to, anyway. Not that he had any idea what he would have said), mostly about capture the flag and the s’mores and the raucous affair of a Tanaka-style waffle breakfast the next morning.

But still… there is definitely something _wrong_.

But, again, the word ‘distance’ just doesn't seem to cut it.

Like instead of the playful dodging of Kageyama’s grabby hands that typically results in him catching Hinata anyway, Hinata’s reactions have been much more…

Is ‘flinchy’ a word?

Kageyama first chalked it up to Hinata maybe feeling a little skittish after everything that happened that weekend – after all, it isn’t likely that Hinata _knows_ that Kageyama can’t remember their night on the couch.

Ugh – Kageyama isn’t even positive that’s what even happened! The Hinata-scented pillow could have all been wishful thinking (except no, it’s not, and Hinata’s own sleeping bag hadn’t moved from its spot on the living room floor since he dumped it there the evening prior).

It wouldn’t be totally crazy to think that Hinata is justifiably a little jumpy. Past evidence suggests that to be normal, expected behavior.

But after practice Monday night, during a particularly giggle-filled Mock Kageyama session in the club room, Kageyama had reached over to mess up some sweat-damp red hair, like he always does. But the shriek of abject _terror_ that he earned stopped him dead in his tracks – not to mention the several pairs of startled eyes turned in his direction and the eerie silence that fell over the whole room, glued to wide-eyed Kageyama and Hinata cowering on the floor against the base of the lockers, hands covering his head.

Another freak accident, Kageyama figured (prayed), as Hinata bounced back up immediately, smiling and laughing and back to normal when they walked home.

But it happened again. And again.

The frightened look that darkened his face the second Kageyama’s fingers twitched toward the idiot’s hair suggests only what Kageyama can attribute to actual anticipation of… like, real _pain_ or something, and it’s been so disturbing that he can’t even bring himself to try anymore.

And the hair thing isn't even all of it. On Wednesday, when Kageyama went to whisper into Hinata’s ear about changing up their tempo for their next attack, Hinata tripped over himself to even avoid the gentle tug of Kageyama’s fingers at his sleeve.

And goddammit, it _hurts._

“…………and then during the second set this spiker blasted the blocker in the face and blood just EXPLODED out of his nose it was the CRAZIEST thing I’ve ever seen it was like that one time that you got hit in the face and tried to tell us that your nose wasn’t bleeding, remember that? Anyway, then the guy actually kept playing I can’t even believe the coach let him play his nose was totally broken and they were down by six but they ended up winning it was so cool you should have seen it and _then_ —“

“Well maybe you should have invited me over to watch it,” Kageyama says sourly, snapping from his thoughts and inspecting the shredded pile of his napkin that now covers most of his uneaten lunch. “You knew I wasn’t doing anything Sunday.”

“Ah—um y-yeah!” Hinata stammers quickly, eyes darting away as he takes a bite of his sandwich. He chews it quickly before continuing. “Sorry! I uh… wasn’t feeling well! I didn’t want to get you sick, too!”

Kageyama snorts. “Bullshit. You still came over that one day when you had the stomach flu.”

Hinata hums around his sandwich, eyes fixed on the row of lockers opposite them in the hallway. Kageyama can see the smile he’s trying to hide.

“Your dad had to come drag you out of the house,” Kageyama reminds him, a smile of his own tugging at his lips. “Then you threw up in the driveway.”

But when Hinata opens his mouth to respond, he hesitates. Kageyama watches the bright light burn out of his face, and instead, Hinata just takes another bite of his sandwich. “Sorry,” he mumbles flatly around a full mouth.

That closed-off, faraway look in those joyless brown eyes makes Kageyama’s stomach plummet and chest tighten. But still he holds onto that possibility that it’s all in his head – that this is all some manifestation of guilt still stuck under his skin from Saturday.

So he says,

“So bring the DVD over after practice tomorrow.”

Hinata blinks at his sandwich for several long… drawn out… agonizing seconds before sighing. Then his mouth opens and,

“I wish we didn’t have to eat inside,” he mumbles, cradling his face in his hand, eyes still pinned across the hall. “I miss the summer.”

Kageyama frowns. “Hey dumbass, don’t ignore me.”

“Mm,” Hinata hums, blinking back towards the setter. “Did you say something?”

“Stupid,” Kageyama smirks, hand instinctively raising to stuff into red hair.

But when Hinata flinches violently, face screwing up into a grimace and body shrinking back into a cower, Kageyama freezes.

His heart rips in two.

And he can't help it; he winds his hands into the front of his own hair and drops his head, blowing out a frustrated, growling breath.

 _‘Let me touch you!’_ He wants to say – wants to _scream_. But he can't, so instead,

“What the fuck is your problem!?” Kageyama grinds out, releasing his hair and snatching up his uneaten lunch to stuff hurriedly into his bag. “If you don’t want to hang out with me, just fucking say so!”

“W-wait!” Hinata cries, uncurling himself and scrambling forward and gripping onto Kageyama’s sleeve.

Kageyama stills again, all wide, hurt eyes, hopeful when they raise to Hinata’s.

But Hinata immediately looks away, startled by his own outburst and swallows. He lets go.

“N-never mind.”

There’s a pause, when Kageyama can feel the hope leach out of him, and then: “That’s what I thought,” Kageyama grumbles as he stands, swinging his bag around his body and fist clenching at his side. He huffs an exasperated breath as he turns away quickly.

But he turns back, grip tightening on the strap at his shoulder, eyes frantic and pained and pleading. He doesn't want to leave.

“I… I don’t—I don't know why—“ he stammers; he has no idea what he’s trying to say, but he knows about a million things he _wants_ to say. “I don’t know what’s been up with you since—dammit, Hinata fucking _look at me!_ ” He cries, uncaring about the blatant desperation hitching his voice.

And Hinata looks up, for just a second, before his eyes flicker away back down to the floor. Kageyama has never seen him so disinterested, so… fucking _blank._

Frustration wells up in his throat, choking him, turning his face too hot. He tries to swallow everything back down, to keep the pain and confusion buried for just a little while longer, because it's not like Hinata hasn't been weird before - it's not like _they_ haven’t been weird before.

But this…

This is  _different._

“Just… just fuck off!” Kageyama chokes out, voice thin and fragile as he turns on his heel, fist winding into the front of his shirt above the blooming ache in his heart as he stomps down the hall.

He hopes so hard to hear Hinata’s frantic little voice calling out behind him, begging Kageyama to come back – like it always does. Only this time he’ll listen. _This_ time Kageyama will gladly turn back and haul Hinata up by his shirt and throw him back against the lockers, trapping him between his arms and demanding Hinata tell him what's going on so that maybe Kageyama will at least have the chance to _apologize_ for whatever horrible mistake he managed to make without even knowing about it.

Then he'd apologize for throwing the dumbass against the lockers. Then he'd explain that this lack of physical contact has been eating him up inside – that not remembering the night spent with Hinata tucked against his side is _killing_ him.

All he needs is that voice. He needs to hear that voice.

But he doesn’t.

So Kageyama rounds the corner, teeth clenched with a memory seeping up beneath his agitation: the touch of soft fingers brushing lightly against his face in early-morning sun, some murmured secret, quiet in his ear and the warmth of a body pressed to his chest. Something happy. Something safe.

And the words _‘think of it as a goodbye’_ running rampant through his head – intrusive and mocking and cruel.

* * *

 

Withdrawal.

Kageyama can only describe it as withdrawal. This creeping itch dragging beneath his skin, scraping through his veins; a restlessness pricking at his joints and buzzing in his ears, making his palms itch and teeth grind. And he's pretty sure his organs aren't supposed to hurt.

It's Friday, and Kageyama, again, feels like he hasn't slept in days. He can't – not with this pressing _need_ _to touch_ chasing him every time he shuts his eyes.

He needs to touch him. He _needs_ it.

“You alright?”

Kageyama starts, head jerking up from his desk as Yamaguchi takes a seat beside Kageyama while other students slowly trickle into the classroom.

“Oh my god,” Yamaguchi adds, freckled face pinched with concern, “you look terrible.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama grunts, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “No sleep.”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

Dropping his head back onto the desk, Kageyama just grumbles a wordless reply.

“Is it—“

“Alright, hurry up and sit,” their teacher calls from the front of the room. “We’ve got a lot to cover before Monday’s test, so let’s get started.”

“Is it Hinata?” Yamaguchi whispers from behind his hand.

With a heavy groan, Kageyama drags his head up off the desk. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well—ah—i-it’s just—“

“Hey, Tadashi.  Eyes up front.”

“Sorry, sir,” Yamaguchi slides down into his seat, a full blush spreading across his cheeks.

Kageyama just breathes out steadily and props his head up with his hand, bloodshot eyes sightlessly glued to the blurry scrawling on the whiteboard as their teacher launches into the lecture.

He makes it about five more minutes into what he thinks is some stuff about deserts and pyramids or some shit before he feels his head nod, and then he gives up completely. He slumps forward, tugging the sleeves of his shirt down and pillowing his head on his folded arms, watching Yamaguchi’s brows knit with compassion while his own eyes slip closed.

.

And then he’s dreaming. He knows he’s dreaming. Fuck – he felt the very moment he transitioned into sleep, when the droning of his teacher faded out and the empty classroom faded in.

Except it’s not quite empty.

Kageyama sits bolt upright, eyes wide and focused on the only other figure in the room.

And Hinata smiles.

He sits perched on the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, legs dangling over the edge and kicking his bare feet playfully before hopping off. He stills then, suddenly, pausing to look down at himself. He gives himself a once-, no, a _twice_ -over, and his lips twitch into a frown of confusion. Pinching familiar light green fabric with the fingers of one hand he lifts the shirt away from his body, gazing down at the big '  1 ' emblazoned on his jersey.

He raises his eyes.

_“Really?”_

But Kageyama just swallows thickly and shrugs.

 _“Okay… but, geez, you could have at least given me something that fits,”_ Hinata grumbles, squirming and tugging awkwardly at the back of green volleyball shorts. _“And where are my shoes?”_

 _“You’re lucky you’re wearing anything at all,”_ Kageyama tells him, immediately looking away with a heat burning into his face.

Hinata laughs, high and light as he strolls over to the door and kicks it closed with a bang.

 _“Why,”_ he asks, eyes shining,  _“because you'll undress me?”_

Kageyama licks his dry lips, eyes widening to saucers as his heart begins to race. _“Yeah,”_ he says hoarsely. “ _Come here.”_

And Hinata does. He walks forward slowly, approaching Kageyama where he’s still seated behind his desk. He stops a few feet from him and folds his arms over the dark green  1  on his jersey, eyes narrowing as they trail over Kageyama’s chest. He frowns.

And so does Kageyama. _“What?”_

_“This couldn’t be one of those… you know, naked-in-school dreams?”_

Kageyama blinks.

 _“Don’t look at me like that!”_ Hinata stomps his bare foot.

Kageyama blinks again, heart climbing high in his throat. _“I can't even imagine how I'm looking at you right now._ ”

 _“All like,”_ Hinata gestures with a vague hand wave, _“this is the first time you've ever seen me!”_

_“Well I've never seen you act like this!”_

_“It's your dream! You made me this way, stupid!”_

Kageyama bristles. _“Well how am I supposed to look at you then?”_

Hinata drops his arms and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth when he smiles and takes another step forward, smacking his palms flat on the desk before hopping up onto it. Then he swivels, squaring himself in front of Kageyama and placing his feet onto the setter’s thighs and leaning forward.

The finger suddenly dragging beneath Kageyama’s chin makes him shiver and gulp and screw his eyes closed. And then Hinata whispers, low and hot and throaty,

_“Like you want to eat me.”_

That's when Kageyama begins to tremble. He hears Hinata breathe out a soft laugh and he cracks his eyes, just as Hinata’s finger flicks gently off his chin and he leans back onto his hands.

 _“You know this is a dream, right? You_ _can_ breathe _, Tobio.”_ The redhead purrs. Kageyama jumps when Hinata’s feet slip up higher on his thighs.

But then Kageyama nods, eagerly and quickly.

He’s never had a dream quite like this before. Not with Hinata as the subject matter. Usually his lucid dreams consist of him just sort of wandering around some ever-changing landscape, maybe alone in the gym and bored and just waiting for his alarm to go off.

This is… a gift. And… oddly convenient.

_Deus ex… Hinata._

Regardless, he sure as fuck won’t be wasting an opportunity so precious; so he finally wills his limbs to work.

 _“Shut up, dumbass,”_ he says quietly because it just feels right, hands rising slowly and the pads of shaky fingers slipping against Hinata’s bare knees. Blue eyes flicker down from Hinata’s face and dart from hand to hand has Kageyama’s palms slide flat against the tops of those strong, smooth thighs. He feels Hinata tense in anticipation, muscles jumping beneath Kageyama’s gentle touch when his fingers splay out, thumbs tracing tenderly down over the sensitive inside of his legs. But then he hesitates, fingers itching to crawl up another inch, beneath the hem of Hinata’s old shorts. Kageyama draws in a lungful of air when Hinata’s knees push wider – coaxing him on.

But the press of his calloused palms against warm, pale skin, the softness of it isn't something drawn from memory – even if he knows _oh_ too well what Hinata’s legs look like, he's never had his hands on them, and no amount of fantasizing will ever grant him the actual feel of the thighs dimpling beneath his fingers, the give, the tension of perfect skin wrapping well-trained muscle. Kageyama’s brows knit, eyes dropping to his lap in defeat.

This isn't his Hinata.

“It's… it's not—“ Kageyama’s voice crackles, so he wets his lips and tries again, raising his eyes, “it's not the same.”

Hinata's lips quirk into a sad smile and he leans forward, hand coming up to cup Kageyama’s face gently. _“You can pretend, can't you?”_   He asks.  _"Can you pretend for me?"_

Kageyama’s heart squeezes at the sight of hopeful brown eyes – Hinata wants this just as badly as he does; and yeah… yeah, he can pretend. Even if this Hinata isn't the Hinata of his dreams.

Ironically.

If this is all he gets, then he _has_ to.

So Kageyama lifts his own hand to his face, too, covering Hinata’s and nuzzling into small fingers that at least he has the memory for; where at least he _knows_  the feel of them combing through his hair and brushing over his forehead… stroking over his lips… his cheeks...

Somehow.

And when Hinata’s thumb trails over the swell of Kageyama’s bottom lip, he drags his eyelids up – he didn’t even know he’d shut them – and his breath catches at Hinata’s proximity, lust darkening the eyes mere inches from his own and a flush of need painted high in soft cheeks, but not before he feels a pitiful whimper tear up and out of him.

 _“Shh…”_ Hinata breathes out over Kageyama’s lips, threading their fingers together and leading Kageyama’s hand back down to rest just above his knee, _“keep touching me.”_

 _“Hinata_ —” Kageyama whispers, chasing those lips just an inch when Hinata draws back out of reach, leaning back onto his hands.

 _“Keep going,”_ Hinata says again, widening his thighs when Kageyama’s fingers curl against his skin. _“It’s what you want, right?”_

Kageyama licks his lips and breathes out, refocusing his attention to the hold he has on the legs that may or may not actually feel this way – powerful, sturdy, yet still so soft and supple and pliant, creamy flesh indenting under his hands, skin ruddy where dull nails drag down and then back up, fingertips daring to skirt beneath light fabric.

It _is_ what he wants, right?

Hinata sighs out a breathy moan, raising his face to the ceiling while Kageyama trails his fingers featherlight down the insides of his thighs. Kageyama feels his breath quicken, a heat coiling low inside him, pulling tighter at every shameless forward press of Hinata’s hips – Kageyama isn't sure if it's appropriate to draw attention to the tent forming at the front of Hinata’s shorts, thighs parting further as the little redhead shivers.

Oh for fuck’s sake it's _his_ fucking dream!

Hinata’s head lolls to the side when Kageyama sucks in a breath. _“You're h—“_

 _“Obviously,”_ Hinata murmurs, head dropping forward to peek at Kageyama from beneath his lashes. He smirks. _“It's your fucking dream.”_

Kageyama scowls and pinches the skin under one of his hands.

_“Ow!”_

_“Sorry,”_ Kageyama mumbles, smoothing his thumb over the pinking mark.

But Hinata scoffs. _“No you're not.”_

Kageyama just hums, eyes trained hard on the tiniest welt left high on the inside of Hinata’s thigh. Kageyama’s own cock twitches in his pants, hardening further as a heat spreads through him, low and full in his gut; he’s guilty over how much he likes it, the sight of blood blooming up beneath pale skin. Is this how it would be, though? How it would _really_ be? The little weirdo would probably like it, too, so _no_ Kageyama definitely isn't sorry. 

God, he has to know – he has to know what it would be like to have Hinata beneath his hands, to be free to lovingly mark him and then kiss away the smallest bit of pain. He wants it so bad he can taste it.

He can… taste…

Hinata yelps a startled little gasping noise when Kageyama leans forward unexpectedly, lips connecting gently with the red blemish, kissing it so softly before laving at it lightly with his tongue, tasting Hinata for the first time except _not really_ because this isn’t _his_ Hinata; but his hands slip around to cup against the swell of Hinata’s perfect ass, regardless, round and firm and molded to fit Kageyama’s hands.

 _“K-Kage-yama,”_ Hinata stutters out quietly, one hand hand sliding into Kageyama’s hair, tugging hard. Kageyama feels Hinata’s other leg lift and wind around his back, heel nudging into his spine as he presses kiss after wet kiss to the tiny mark.

He should keep going – keep trailing his lips up to that wet spot forming at the front of Hinata’s shorts (Christ, is he not wearing underwear?), to taste him there, mouthing over the damp fabric, or maybe he should just stand up and slam him down onto the desk, maybe onto his back and rip the shorts off and get strong legs all wrapped around his waist, or maybe he should bend Hinata over the top of it, wind his fingers into messy hair and make Hinata gasp and whimper while Kageyama grinds his solid length against his ass, teasing them both, not quite giving in to what either of them so desperately want, or maybe he _should_ just—

 _“You better hurry up,”_ Hinata says breathlessly, eyes blown and dark as he peers down, wetting his lips. Like he knows exactly what Kageyama is thinking. _“You might wake up soon.”_

Kageyama nips once, biting softly at Hinata’s thigh before blue eyes roll up. He swallows, the heat in his belly coiling tighter at the arousal flushed deep in Hinata's face –  parted lips cherry red and wet, pink spread out across his face and down over his throat.

 _“What are you going to do to me?”_ Hinata breathes out, punctuating his question by trailing his fingers down the side of Kageyama’s face, slipping them over his parted lips. Lashes flutter over dark blue eyes when Hinata’s fingers drag over his bottom lip, dipping only just between them when a heavy groan drags up and out of him.

Kageyama feels like he’s choking – like the air is liquid, too thick to breathe and sticking inside his lungs. So when he speaks again it’s far too quiet.

_“No.”_

It takes a second for Hinata to respond. His thumb slides across the inside of Kageyama’s lip before he stills – _freezes_ , really. Little brows crinkle and he blinks, expression confused.

_“No?”_

And what happens then, Kageyama could only describe as somewhat of a… dismantling. Everything about Hinata changes.

Hinata drops his hand from Kageyama’s face, his own face falling as hurt brown eyes dart away, the glow within them dimming and the leg hitched around Kageyama’s back pulls away too, Hinata’s foot coming to rest again on Kageyama’s knee.

 _“You…”_ Hinata swallows, scooting back and closing his legs self-consciously and eyes dropping to his lap, fingers fidgeting at the hem of his shirt and tugging it down to cover himself, _“you don’t want—but I thought you—"_

 _“With,”_ Kageyama quietly tries to clarify, but the look of heartbreak in Hinata’s face suggests he needs to try just a little harder.

 _“What?”_ Hinata whispers to his lap.

 _“With,”_ Kageyama says again, heart twisting (god – he still manages to hurt him in his dreams) as he raises a trembling hand slowly. He brushes the backs of his knuckles softly over a blushed cheek before cupping the back of Hinata’s head, fingers wrapped in warm red hair. _“With you.”_

And when surprised eyes finally come back to meet his, he gently pulls Hinata forward, tilts his own face up, and kisses him.

Their lips slide together softly; it’s not forceful, but it’s powerful. Kageyama feels Hinata yield to it, melting into the warmth of it. He eeks out a tiny whimper when he shuffles forward, small fist winding into the front of Kageyama’s shirt and the other stuffing into black hair.

When Kageyama pulls back just a bit, just to look at him, Hinata is reeling – dazed and needy, lips parted and eyes blinking half-way open.

 _This_ is his Hinata.

 _“You have the chance to do anything to me,”_ Hinata breathes, voice hushed and wavering against Kageyama’s lips, _“and you just kiss me?”_

And staring into hooded brown eyes, Kageyama doesn’t admit that he’d gladly trade Hinata writhing and rocking in his lap or on his knees in front of him, fucking back, working himself over Kageyama’s cock, for just a few moments of this (though obviously he’d take both, but if, like, he _had_ to choose), just a couple seconds of quiet breathing and the pads of his fingers tracing soft and light over the lines of Hinata’s beautiful face, for the first taste of pouty pink lips and maybe the promise of a second.

He doesn’t admit that he’d give up any and all hope of sex for the rest of his life for just one perfect first kiss with Hinata.

So instead he nods against Hinata’s forehead pressed to his and says, with a wobbly laugh,

_“We have to start somewhere—“_

But Hinata is already kissing him again, eager hands brushing through black hair as Hinata slides forward, slipping right off the desk and into Kageyama’s lap.

Kageyama immediately wraps his arms around him, deepening the kiss while Hinata’s thighs tighten around his hips. Okay, yeah – he’ll gladly take this, too.

He gasps at the urgency of Hinata’s lips on his, and Hinata takes this as an opportunity to slip his tongue between them and then between Kageyama's, hesitant at first – stilling when Kageyama’s breath hitches again, but only for a second.

And then Kageyama can taste Hinata’s tongue in his mouth, moving warm and slow against his. He swallows down the heavy affection fed to him from fiery lips, hands smoothing down the sides of that stupid green jersey to rest against Hinata’s waist.

Quiet moans tremble against Kageyama’s mouth, the sound rivaling only the feel of it in intensity, shooting like electricity down into him and searing him from the inside out.

And when Hinata suddenly jerks forward, hips rolling down and hard against Kageyama, Hinata cries out high and loud to the ceiling.

 _“F-fuck,”_ Kageyama stutters, pressing his lips to the side of Hinata’s jaw, gasping and rocking up himself when Hinata does it again.

Hinata knocks his nose against Kageyama’s temple, pushing at him until he can fit their lips together again. This time it’s messy, this time it’s wet and loud and Hinata bites at Kageyama’s lips, licking into Kageyama’s mouth until Kageyama’s head is spinning, swimming and hazy with pleasure as they establish a driving rhythm with their hips. It feels so good and perfect that Kageyama almost forgets that it’s all a dream.

Almost.

 _“Ka-yama—“_ Hinata gasps into Kageyama’s mouth, _“good—you feel—good—a-and big—”_

Kageyama jams a hand to Hinata’s hip to still him and winds one hand into red hair to tug Hinata back and away from him, and Hinata keens. _“Don’t say things like that—dumbass.”_

Hinata’s eyes roll up at the tight grip in his hair, mouth dropping open and fists clutching at the front of Kageyama’s shirt.   _“Ah—mm! Idiot—it’s your—_ god _—your d-dream,”_ Hinata gasps out. “ _You're the one—oh god—keep—more, please—let me—“_

And Kageyama’s resolve is shit, so he loosens his grip at stuttering hips and ruts up, grinding against Hinata through too many layers of clothing and pulling hard on the hair in his fist, craning Hinata’s neck back and ducking forward to clamp his mouth over the dip in his shoulder.

 _“You could h-have this—“_ Hinata cries with Kageyama sucking hard on his skin, _“You could—have me—for real—you know that I—“_

 _“I love you,”_ Kageyama admits suddenly, dragging his lips up the side of Hinata’s neck before looking him in the face, sliding his hand down to the back of his neck. _“I love you—H-Hinata—I love you so much—f-fuck—“_

 _“D-don’t stop,”_ Hinata pleads, moving against him fervently, needing it – needing _him._

_“Not—going to—you feel—amazing—“_

_“Not that, stupid—“_ Hinata gasps, fingers scrabbling over Kageyama’s shoulders, twisting into his shirt for leverage and knees squeezing around Kageyama’s waist. _“Don’t—stop—_ nngh _—l-loving me.”_

This knocks hard against Kageyama’s heart, reaches deep down into him and churns him up, choking a breath out of him that Hinata drinks in with greedy lips at his mouth again. So when he gets the chance he breathes out, wrecked and gravelly,

_“Never.”_

Hinata whines, dropping his face and pushing his lips against the damp skin of Kageyama’s neck.

 _“I want you,”_ Hinata confesses breathlessly, hips rolling faster, harder. _“Want you so bad—all the time—“_

The heat in Kageyama’s gut blooms full, the hot coil twining tight and tense with Hinata’s dick rubbing solid against his.

 _“To feel you—inside me—“_ Hinata continues, desperate, _“s-stretching me. Filling me—up—_ hah—yes— _until I can’t—t-take it any—fuck—Kageyama—“_

 _“Hinata,”_ Kageyama moans against his hair.

 _“I want—I want to come—m-make me come—Kag—please—_ o-oh _—“_

Kageyama grips Hinata’s hips firmly, hitching him up higher and dragging him fast and hard against him, grinding Hinata’s cock against his stomach and rocking up against his ass.

_“Don’t—p-please—“_

_“I won’t stop—“_ Kageyama swears, _“Any of it—won’t s-stop—“_

_“N-no—don’t—you can’t—“_

_“Never—I promise, Shouyou—I love—love you—“_

Hinata sobs and wraps his arms around Kageyama’s neck so tight he can barely breathe, but he doesn’t care – he’s already dizzy with a shuddering orgasm creeping up on him, Hinata working his ass down over him like he was made for it.

 _“Please—Kageyama!”_ Hinata wails, _“Don’t—don’t go!”_

 _“W-what?”_ Kageyama gasps. _“I’m not—going—“_

_“Don’t leave— ‘m so close—“_

_“Wha—Hinata—“_

_“P-please don’t—leave me—“_

_“I’ll never—“_

_“Stay with me, p-please—oh god, T-Tobio—“_

And then time disappears.

That’s the only way Kageyama could ever describe it. The world extinguished – ceased around him when Hinata suddenly froze in his lap, hands abruptly gripping the sides of Kageyama’s face hard and wide brown eyes, lucid and clear and commanding, bore into Kageyama’s so intensely they plunge him deep into eternity, stopping the blood in his veins and the breath in his lungs.

The walls rush in around him, dragging the world up in a crystal-sharp focus. Frightened blue eyes flick down to lips when they suddenly part and then,

_“Think of it as a goodbye.”_

Kageyama pulls in sharp breath.

_“Goodbye, Tobio.”_

_._

“Tobio.”

Kageyama jerks awake with a gasp, gripping the edge of his desk in a wild panic as his eyes regain focus.

“So nice of you to join us,” his teacher mocks from the front of the room. But then his smirk falls right off his face. “Hey, are you alright?”

Kageyama’s eyes shift insanely from face to face turned towards him – stilling on Yamaguchi’s for half a second longer than the rest – as his entire class is now staring at him with varied expressions ranging from concern to amusement to apathy.

And not only is he painfully hard beneath his desk, but he’s about one light brush against his cock away from coming in his pants. There. In front of a room full of students. And it’s not like Hinata was exaggerating, really; Kageyama is… definitely _bigger_ than average. It's not exactly something he really bothers to think about.

Except during times when he might have to make a hasty escape, knowing full well how painfully _obvious_ it would be if he were to just stand up. So he makes a decision.

“Tobio, do you need—“

But he’s up and sprinting out of the classroom before his teacher can finish.

YES he needs – he fucking _needs_.

The glancing friction against his aching cock tight against the front of his pants makes his knees weak as he tears through the blessedly vacant hallway towards the nearest bathroom. He trips into a stall, slamming the door hard behind him.

He doesn’t even take a moment to think about the last and only time he did this in school – it was after hours, after practice even, during his first year and in a bathroom tucked up far away from the suspicions of the team. He and Hinata had been going at it (big surprise) after Hinata had fallen on him after a rather violent collision—

Actually that’s a story for another time.

His shaking fingers fumble with the button and zipper of restrictive jeans as he leans back against the stall door. He licks a wet stripe up his palm, and muffling a groan with his lip caught hard in his teeth he wraps a warm hand around himself, thumb circling the flushed head and coming away slick.

He breathes in sharply and out again just as forcefully when his hand pulls down and then up over his length; it’s too hot - _he's_ too hot. He’s sweating, heat shooting through his limbs and simmering up into his face, pooling low and urgent and _too fucking hot_ in his stomach. Gripping the base of his cock firmly with one hand, he fucks into the other – breath hitching as heady jolts of need tear up his spine and claw at his skin.

_‘—filling me up—’_

“Fuck,” Kageyama groans under his breath, screwing his eyes shut.

_‘—make me come, Kageyama—’_

Kageyama swallows, tongue pushing hard against his teeth while his cock thumps hot in his hand, hips pushing forward and back and rattling the door behind him. He grunts his frustration and spins around, slamming a fist against the stall door before letting his head follow it, forehead thunking painfully hard against the cheap metal below his clenched fingers.

The muscles of his arm work, tense and bunching beneath his sleeve and he cracks his eyes, following the full, driving strokes of his hand. He's panting - where the air was too thick in his dream it’s too thin now, ineffective in his lungs with the image of Hinata wrecked and pleading burned into his mind.

He shuts his eyes again to chase it – to chase the desperation on those mewling lips pushed against his skin, the stuttered grind of hips against him.

_‘—so close—’_

“Me too,” Kageyama rasps out, turning his head and pushing his open mouth against his shoulder. That tight knot of heat grips hard, winding inside of him, the pressure close to bursting when fingers pull off over his dripping head, circling his length tightly to shallowly thrust into his hand again.

“Hinata—” he groans so quietly through teeth clenched tight around the fabric of his sleeve, but he can't breathe like this, not enough, so he drops back against the wall, gasping at the chill of cool metal pressed against his sweat-damp back through his shirt. He's close; he's _close._

He chokes out a hissing breath through his teeth, palm dragging rough over his length and it’s _good_ , it’s _so fucking good_ he has to jam his knuckles into his mouth to stifle the moan spilling over his lips.

And thank god he did, because,

“............expect me to show up for your basketball game with minimal notice, I have a life you know.”

Kageyama freezes when a familiar voice drifts into the bathroom; he holds his breath as tears bead at the corners of his eyes.

_Nishinoya._

“Driving around aimlessly with your manager doesn’t qualify as having a life.”

_And… some other guy._

But he can’t stop. He grips himself hard and bites his fingers, watching the wet tip of his cock push in and out of his fist. The intrusive conversation fades out – distant background noise buried in the deafening rush of blood in his ears.

_‘—don’t stop—’_

Blue eyes slam shut and Kageyama shakes his head. He’s not stopping. He can’t.

_‘Don’t stop loving me.’_

And then he splays his fingers out over his mouth, running them across his lips, pulling down over the bottom one as he silently pants.

_‘...and you just kiss me?’_

_Yes,_ he thinks. _Just let me kiss you… please—_

His body jerks, a resounding shudder rolling up through him and igniting the heat in his stomach, kindling up and up into his chest and down through his arms, knocking his head back against the wall.

He doesn’t even care if anyone hears him - the thought doesn’t even cross his mind, not with huge brown eyes and soft pink lips occupying the whole of it.

_‘I love you, Kageyama.’_

And then he’s coming – hard and quaking, body shuddering and cock beating again and again as he spurts thick and hot over his hand.

He felt that. He fucking _felt_ that ghosting against the shell of his ear – soft breath spoken from softer lips, warm and honest and close.  

Colors burst behind shut eyes and waves of bliss ring high in his ears while his hips stutter out his orgasm, heavy ropes of white coating his hand and shooting down onto the floor. The fingers of his other hand are in his mouth, dragging down his sweaty throat and winding in his shirt with the whisper of love surging through his body.

Tremors rack him as he crashes back to earth, tears squeezing from his eyes, palm coming up to cover them. His hips finally still, the tension flowing out of him, melting down and down until his limbs feel too heavy, leaden and liquid.

He blinks his eyes open from behind his hand.

‘ _I love you, Kageyama.’_

_Where the fuck did that come from?_

He sags back against the wall as he pushes out a long slow breath, quiet, and eyes dropping down the front of him. He pulls his hand away, fingers webbed and knuckles dripping.

_Fuck._

“..........tomorrow after practice maybe.” The conversation fades back in.

“Alright yeah,” Kageyama hears Nishinoya agree to something. Then there’s a flush and the running of water from a tap as he silently reaches for toiletpaper. “See ya,” Nishinoya says before the sound of footsteps tap out of the bathroom.

And then it’s silent, and he’s alone.

Kageyama breathes out, grimacing at the rough paper dragging over his sensitive skin. He needs a lot more for his hand. And the floor.

The wet plop of the wad of tissue in the toilet makes his lip curl and stomach sink. He feels ashamed. Empty. And _so terribly confused._

He sighs again and swipes a hand down his sweaty face. If only that had sated his need to touch Hinata.

If only.

But he’s pretty sure it just made everything worse. And great – _now_ he has to explain something to his teacher. Whatever. He’ll just say he had to throw up.

Good plan.

Actually, he might do that anyway.

He heaves one last pitiful sigh and gives himself a once-over, zipping himself back into his jeans and smashing his foot down on the metal lever to flush the toilet.

The door unlocks with a click and he shuffles out of the stall, defeated as he approaches the sink, hands curling against the white porcelain as he hangs his head.

“Shit…”

“Everything al–”

“Holy _FUCK_!” Kageyama yells, whipping around toward the voice and skittering backwards into the wall, colliding hard with a paper towel dispenser and knocking it loose. “Where the—” he spins, frantically fumbling the cheap plastic thing before it slides down the wall and clatters to the floor. He fails. “Where the fuck did you come from!?” He cries at Nishinoya who is still leaned over one of the sinks with a bottle of hair gel in his hand.

Noya arches a brow, watching Kageyama kick at the mangled heap of broken plastic and scattered paper towels. “Um, were you hiding in here?”

“No!” Kageyama snaps, smashing his hand against the tap of a sink and furiously scrubbing at his hands.

“Wow. I’ve never seen anyone wash their hands so angrily before,” Nishinoya says with a sniff, moving back from the mirror to give the setter his full attention. “Are you okay?”

“I wish everyone would stop asking me that,” Kageyama grinds out.

“Well maybe if you weren’t hiding in bathroom stalls and looking like some zombie, we wouldn’t have to.”

“I’m _fine_.”

“You’re quite obviously not fine,” Nishinoya points out, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back against the sink like he’s fucking setting up camp. “When’s the last time you slept, exactly?”

Kageyama snorts. “About five minutes ago. Funny you should ask. I said I’m fine.” He knocks a wet fist against the tap to turn it off and stalks over to the unbroken paper towel dispenser. “I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Weird. You seemed to sleep just fine Saturday night.”

Kageyama stills with a handful of paper towels, save for his eyes that widen and his heart that kicks into overdrive. But then he turns, slowly.

“What do you know?” Kageyama’s voice scrapes out his throat.

Nishinoya just licks his lips, eyes and mouth smiling.

“What—” Kageyama swallows, “what do you know?”

But the libero’s face falls, brow crinkled at the misery showing plain on Kageyama’s face. He cocks his head. “I don't… I don't know anything. I didn't mean—”

“For fuck’s sake, Nishinoya what do you know!?” Before Kageyama has a second to think, paper towels are fluttering to the ground and his wet fists are wound in his teammate’s shirt, his chest heaving with desperation.

Startled brown eyes blink up at him, but otherwise Noya doesn't move.

“Shit,” Kageyama breathes out, dropping his head and loosening his hold. “I-I'm sorry—fuck, I didn't—”

“Hey,” Nishinoya says softly, stepping forward as Kageyama steps back. “I didn't see anything, if that's what you're worried about. I wouldn't tell anyone even if I did. I didn't think it was supposed to be a secret or anything… I mean, you guys are sort of—”

“Was he… he there with me? All night?”

Nishinoya cocks his head. “I… think? You mean you don’t know?”

Kageyama shakes his head.

“Shit, Kageyama! I didn't think you had that much to drink!”

“I didn't,” Kageyama huffs, heat flooding his face, “I just can't… remember… I have to—I want to know...”

“I knew I should have taken a picture,” Noya laughs, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at the floor with a smile. “It wasn't anything… _scandalous_ or anything, it—”

“I never thought that it was!”

“—it was just sort of… cute, I guess.”

Kageyama groans miserably and covers his face with his hands, stepping back into the wall and leaning against it.

“Which part are you upset about, exactly? I'm having trouble reading the situation here.”

“Just don't worry about it,” Kageyama says from between his teeth.

Nishinoya looks at Kageyama for several moments, face confused and oddly sympathetic despite probably not really knowing the reason why. But then he asks,

“So what happened with him, then? Why are you like this?”

Kageyama blinks, dropping his hands. “Nothing happened.”

“Is _that_ why you're like this?”

“What?”

“Did you… you know… _want_ something to happen?”

Kageyama glowers.

“Never mind."

“He’s just… he's been weird, okay!? God,” Kageyama blurts, wincing at himself. “Since the party, I mean.”

“Weird how?”

Kageyama can tell that the other boy is trying very hard not to smirk, but he ignores it. “He won't… he’s been acting like he's… afraid of me.” Kageyama drops his eyes, his chest feeling like it's cleaving in half.

“Well that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.”

“Yeah, I—wait,” Kageyama’s brows pinch, “what?”

Nishinoya waves his hand dismissively, and with a roll of his eyes he stoops to toss his hair gel into his backpack. “Trust me. He isn't afraid of you.”

Kageyama frowns. “How would you know?”

“I have eyes.”

“Yeah but you _saw—”_

“And ears.”

“You were in the club room Monday,” Kageyama reminds him. “You saw how he freaked out and—”

“I wouldn't say he ‘freaked out’. It was hardly the first time he did something like that.”

Kageyama continues to frown. “But then on Tuesday he… in the gym—”

“Listen I,” Nishinoya stands, eyes shifting away from Kageyama when he clears his throat, “Kageyama… he isn’t afraid of you.”

Kageyama just slides down the wall dramatically and cradles his face in his hands.

So pitiful.

Nishinoya puffs out his cheeks before hissing out an exasperated breath. He says, “I'm not sure if I should be the one telling you this… especially if you don't remember.”

And Kageyama’s head shoots up so fast he bashes the back of it against the wall.

“You don't remember _anything_?"

Kageyama shakes his head. “He was playing a video game and I… I fell asleep on the floor. That’s it.”

“Okay then. Well, I uh…” Noya wets his lips nervously, “when I went to go look for you guys for breakfast, I… found you on the couch… wrapped around each other like a couple of ferrets. I just couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.”

“Okay, so he _did—”_

“But then…” the libero interrupts, looking away again with discomfort scrawled all over his face, “when I came back… I don’t… maybe I shouldn’t tell you this. It’s not really my place...”

Kageyama’s heart climbs higher in his throat with every passing second of silence, with every moment that extends this apparent moral battle raging inside his tiny teammate’s head. So he rasps out,

“Nishinoya _please_.”

Nishinoya jams his hands in his pockets and drops his eyes to the floor in front of him. “When I came back a second time, he was awake. He didn’t know I was there. Shit, Kageyama, there’s no way he’s afraid of you. Not after—”

They both jerk at the shrill ring of the bell signalling the end of the period and Kageyama jumps to his feet, frantic anticipation setting his teeth on edge.

“Shit, I gotta go. Test I didn’t study for.” Noya grabs his backpack and swings it up onto his shoulder, and it’s all Kageyama can do to not rush forward and grab him. Actually, that’s exactly what he sets out to do, but another student enters the bathroom just as Kageyama takes a step. So instead of assaulting his teammate for the second time, he just pins him with wide, desperate eyes.

“Wait, please—”

“I’ll see you at practice,” Noya promises as he bolts by. Kageyama dashes after him as the hallway begins to fill. “He’s not afraid of you!” Nishinoya calls back over his shoulder, weaving his way through bodies. “Just trust me, okay!?”

And then he's swept away by the sea of students and out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm... I wonder what happened that morning? 
> 
> Come on, Kageyama. You know. Don't be stupid. You know exactly what happened.
> 
> And hey, I didn't mean for sleep deprivation to be such a pervasive theme in this fic, but you write what you know I guess?
> 
> //  
>  
> 
>  
> 
> As always, thank you for bearing with me and my terrible update schedule!!


	19. Chapter 19

“Did you kill Kageyama’s family or something?”

Nishinoya throws a cautious look over his shoulder towards dangerous blue eyes before wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand while practice draws to a close.

“He's been eyeballing you all night,” Tanaka adds, watching the setter reluctantly tear his gaze away from Nishinoya to help gather up the practice balls with one of the first years.

“Yeah well,” Nishinoya waves Tanaka off and loops his towel around his neck, “jealousy and all that.”

“I'll be offended if you really expect me to believe that.”

Nishinoya kicks Tanaka in the ass and the two boys gather up their water bottles and head out of the gym and into the cold air of the late evening.

They make it to the foot of the stairs leading up to the club room when the thudding of rapid footfalls looms up behind them. They turn, and Kageyama skids to a grinding halt in the dirt.

“Nish—I—you—“ Kageyama wheezes, leaning his hands into his knees to catch his breath.

“You're not practicing with Hinata tonight?” Tanaka asks absently, sipping from his water bottle.

Now, Kageyama has always been the embodiment of “if looks could kill,” but Noya is shocked when Tanaka doesn't burst into flames.

But then Kageyama straightens up and turns his deadly gaze towards Nishinoya, eyes suddenly pleading and pathetic when he huffs a breath out of his nose.

“He's uh… practicing with me tonight!” Nishinoya says quickly. “I was just going to get my jacket from—“

Kageyama snorts again like a bull and clenches his fists at his sides.

“—um yeah, on second thought I don't need it.”

“You’re practicing without me!?” Tanaka wails, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I knew it, you _are_ cheating on me!”

“Not _practicing_ , more like I'm going to show him this thing—“

“No no, it’s fine. I get it,” Tanaka says with a dramatic sniff, peeling off from the other two and dramatically throwing himself up the stairs, sobbing loudly into his hands. “I thought what we had was special! I thought I was the only one! All those times you told me I was beautiful and you said we were going to Paris together! You tricked me, I can’t believe I let you……..” Tanaka’s theatrics fade away when he rounds the corner.

Nishinoya sighs and turns back towards Kageyama, glaring. “I didn't forget, you big— _wah_!” There’s a squawk of surprise when Kageyama’s fist winds into his shirt, and then he's being _dragged_ back and around the side of the gym.

“I'm not Shouyou!” Noya grinds out, brushing himself off when Kageyama releases him beneath the shadow of the building. “You can't just drag me around like—“

“Nishinoya, _please_ ,” Kageyama begs, chest heaving and breath visible in the chilly air.

“Jesus… alright.” The libero drops his eyes to the ground and folds his arms over his chest. He really wishes he had grabbed his jacket.

“That morning I came into the room and you guys were all cuddly on the couch and both of you were still asleep but then—“

“I know that part already!” Kageyama snaps.

“He was… awake,” Noya says slowly with a frown, ignoring Kageyama’s shit attitude and looking off to the side, “when I came back the second time. He was still lying there with you…” Noya clears his throat and looks back at Kageyama, “how much detail to you want, exactly?”

“All of it.”

Nishinoya nods. “He wasn’t really… like, he wasn’t lying _directly_ on top of you or anything, but he was sort of like… his head was on your shoulder and your arm was um… around him—“

“I swear if that’s all it is I’m going to strangle you,” Kageyama growls, stepping forward.

“It’s not, okay!” Noya bristles, stomping his foot and leaning up into Kageyama’s face. “Will you let me tell the fucking story!”

“Sorry,” Kageyama mumbles, shrinking back a couple inches. “I just want—“

“Yeah yeah, you want to know, I get it, just chill the fuck out for a second,” Nishinoya huffs before continuing. “He was looking at you.”

Kageyama blinks.

“Like _watching_ you.” Noya looks away again. “He was watching you sleep. I felt like I was watching some creepy romantic movie or something. And… he was, like, touching your face…” Nishinoya licks his lips and swallows. He really doesn’t feel right about any of this, especially considering what’s coming soon.

Kageyama blinks again.

“All like… you know.” Noya gestures vaguely, keeping his eyes pointed over Kageyama’s shoulder.

And finally Kageyama reacts. “No,” he says. “No, I _don’t_ know.”

Nishinoya starts to fidget. Yeah, he’s _really_ uncomfortable. But—

“It was so gentle,” the libero continues quietly, unable to keep what could be interpreted as _fondness_ from his voice, “and… I’m not sure if _‘exploratory’_ is the right word because really that doesn’t describe how—“

“How what?” Kageyama interrupts with an impatient hiss.

 “—how… like… I don't know, _loving_ it was.”

Noya risks a glance back at the setter, but to his complete surprise, Kageyama doesn’t seem to be at all shocked by this at all; no, but he’s definitely thinking very hard about something. Nishinoya can see the gears turning behind narrowed blue eyes, flickers of what could be realization ghosting over his face while he chews on his thumbnail.

Maybe Kageyama already knew all this and he just needed someone to confirm it. And if that’s the case, it makes the next part much less—

“He kissed you,” Noya blurts.

But the way Kageyama’s eyes suddenly fly wide, the way he staggers back a step, clutching his chest like he’d been shot, tells Nishinoya that, oh… _oh shit_ , okay, maybe he didn’t know _that_.

“Wh-wha—what!?” The setter stammers, the color draining from his face. “He _what_!?”

“N-not on the lips or anything!” Nishinoya adds in a panic, stepping forward and waving his hands in front of himself wildly. Shit, Kageyama looks like he's going to pass out. “It was on your forehead! Like the way your mom would kiss you goodnight! Something dumb like that! Like no big deal, you know?”

“Like my…” Kageyama swallows, eyes completely unfocused when his hand comes up, fingers brushing beneath his bangs, “like… no big… yeah… he… yeah.” He’s saying words, but Noya is pretty damn sure he doesn’t realize it.

“Shit,” Nishinoya gripes to himself. “I shouldn’t have… I thought maybe you knew—“

“Did he say anything to me?” Kageyama asks with a faraway look in his glazed eyes.

“What?”

“Did he say anything?” Kageyama asks again flatly.

“Well… I guess I skipped ahead,” the libero admits, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. When blank blue eyes meet his, Nishinoya shivers, and from more than just the cold. “He… yeah, he did. Before he… kissed you.”

Kageyama doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. He only stares.

“So… he was all touching your face and everything, and then it was like… then he just stopped all of a sudden? I thought maybe you woke up or something, but he just… kept looking at you.”

Kageyama still hasn’t moved. Nishinoya thinks about asking if he’s still breathing, but he pushes on.

“Then he rolled off the couch all quiet and slow, he definitely didn’t want to wake you. He knelt beside you and then he—“

“What did he say,” Kageyama says mechanically. It’s not exactly a question.

“I don’t know,” Noya admits. “It was too quiet. But he definitely whispered something to you.”

Kageyama stares.

“I… I couldn’t see his face and it was just too quiet,” Nishinoya repeats, “but then that’s when he leaned up and… and kissed you.”

Kageyama’s eyes drift off to the side; he’s doing that thinking thing again, only this time it looks a lot more… pained? Confused? Satisfied? God, who even knows with this guy. His eyes squeeze shut and he covers his face with his hands, and with a heavy sigh he asks, muffled,

“And then what happened.”

“And then he just… left? As soon as he turned around I hid behind the corner because I didn’t want him to think I was spying on you guys or anything. He went into the bathroom and the next time I saw him was at the breakfast table… and then you showed up a few minutes later.”

Kageyama nods slowly, his hands still covering his face.

“I thought something had like… _happened_ with you guys that night, like maybe… you finally…” he trails off and clears his throat, “but… I’m guessing not.”

Kageyama blows out a slow breath from behind his hands. And then he drops them, arms hanging limply at his sides once again.

And then… he smiles. It’s small and a little wobbly and gone in a flash, and if Noya hadn’t been staring intently at Kageyama’s face he might have missed it entirely.

But he didn’t.

“Thank you, Nishinoya,” Kageyama says quietly to the ground, fingers coming up again to graze over his forehead. However, any hint of a smile has vanished – wiped away entirely and replaced by what Nishinoya can only describe as agitated confusion.

“Ah, um—“ Nishinoya stammers, “you’re… welcome,” he says as Kageyama stalks past.

Nishinoya stares at the corner of the building after Kageyama disappears behind it. He swallows.

Because going by the look on Kageyama’s face, someone is about to die.

Well, either die or get, like… kissed to death. Seriously – who knows with that guy.

But either way, someone should probably warn Hinata.

* * *

 

**Six days ago: In the wee hours of Sunday morning**

Hinata blinks drowsily, head nodding against his struggle to beat this pyramid thing that has been shuffling after him obnoxiously throughout this whole goddamn game – a game that Hinata had somehow miraculously goaded Kageyama into purchasing for him.

For _him. All_ for _HIM_ (!!!).

But no; no there’s no way that’s actually true. Kageyama wouldn’t just go and do something like that for him. Hinata sighs sadly. It was a nice thought, though.  

Whatever – It's not like he's even enjoying this stupid game anymore with sleep creeping up on him. But really, the main reason he can’t concentrate is the fact that Kageyama is all slumped against him, passed out cold with his head on Hinata’s shoulder.

Hinata sighs again and backs out of the game before shutting off the system with the controller.

There's some hesitant shuffling, some genius maneuvering, and Hinata makes sure that Kageyama won't flop over onto the floor before he stands, moving to grab the remote to shut off the TV.

Hinata blinks into the sudden darkness, blind eyes fixed on the spot where Kageyama is leaned back against the couch while he waits for them to adjust. He takes this moment to reflect on the evening.

It’s been quite a night – a freaking rollercoaster, if you ask him. After getting strung along by that cruel siren known as _Hope_ and feeling his heart completely shatter, he was asked out for the first time in his entire life, and along with that he came to realize that it’s ‘ _common_ _knowledge_ ’ that he’s into boys (and that Kageyama totally knows it, too, and yet never thought to even mention it to him); he got tipsy for the first time – albeit short-lived... he’s a little confused about that – there was lots of crying and lots of _feelings_ , but it all ended on… well, kind of a high note. Kageyama hugged him again, and he fell asleep on him, not only once, but _twice._

And if a meteor were to slam into the earth right now he would welcome the fiery embrace of death with open arms.

At least he’d die with the boy he loves.

Yeah – okay, no, he doesn’t _actually_ want to die, but he sure does feel… empty.

Another couple rapid blinks has him staring down at Kageyama, resting comfortably and breathing softly, evenly, propped up by the couch and his arms folded across his chest.

Hinata knuckles at his eyes and tiptoes softly from the room. It’s quiet in the house, now; as far as Hinata can tell the other party guests have either left for the night or gone to sleep, and when he pads quietly into the living room, the slew of bodies scattered across the floor confirms it.

He’s stealthy enough to make it over to his bag and dig out some shorts and a clean shirt and his toothbrush without disturbing anyone (except for Tsukishima and his lanky-ass limbs all up in Hinata’s space, but who gives a shit) and then creep into the bathroom to change and get ready for bed.

_Pfft – ‘ass limbs’._

Hinata giggles quietly to himself and sleepily moves the toothbrush around in his mouth. It really wasn’t so bad of a night, considering…

Hinata spits into the sink and rinses his brush before leaning forward to look at himself in the mirror. He forgoes the dramatic splash of cold water to his face – he did that earlier – and sniffs, rubbing his hands up and then down his cheeks.

His chest hurts. But not for the reason he’s come to expect. No – it’s because he’s getting ready to let it go; to let go of the pain he’s been cultivating over the past... _however_ long he’s known about these feelings of his. It’s grown with him and shaped him, shown him what it really feels like to experience joy. Because without it, he’d have no idea how sweet love could taste in its purest form, or what it feels like to glimpse through the thick fog of doubt and into the bright warmth of optimism beyond. It’s the very definition of bittersweet, he knows, and he’ll always be thankful for it. Like an old friend, he’s going to miss it.

He’s going to miss loving Kageyama.

He quickly wipes away a tear and flicks off the light.

Back in the living room, Hinata stuffs his dirty clothes and toothbrush back into his bag (quietly) and then gathers up Kageyama’s sleeping bag and pillow into his arms and ninjas his way around the unconscious bodies and back into the sunroom.

Kageyama is still where he left him, and Hinata quietly drops the setter’s bedding onto the couch, unwinding the sleeping bag and situating his pillow against the armrest.

“Hey,” Hinata whispers, bending down and shaking Kageyama’s shoulder lightly. “Wake up, stupid. You can’t sleep like that.”

Hinata takes this moment to admire Kageyama’s soft, sleep-placid features in the dim room, the hazy, blue shine of the full moon through the window the only source of light playing over his face.

Hinata swallows, kneeling beside Kageyama and shaking him again gently. “Tobio,” he breathes; and Kageyama stirs.

It takes a second before Kageyama opens his eyes, but when he does, he raises his head and just sort of looks at Hinata for a few seconds, blinking blindly only a few inches from his face.

Hinata’s stomach flips.

“Stupid,” the redhead repeats anxiously while Kageyama continues to stare at him, “get on the couch or something.”

Several heart-pounding seconds tick by and Hinata becomes very aware of his own breathing. He licks his lips nervously and he jumps when Kageyama opens his mouth to suck in a breath, brow furrowing when blue eyes search over Hinata’s face in the dark. 

But finally, Kageyama shuts his mouth and nods slowly, uncrossing his arms and raising a hand hesitantly. Hinata’s heart leaps up into his throat.

Long fingers reach gently towards Hinata’s shoulder while Kageyama’s eyes remain locked to his; fingertips dance along the sleeve of Hinata’s light t-shirt, slipping beneath the fabric and ghosting over his skin. Hinata can’t move while goosebumps prick up across his arm – he can’t breathe, and Kageyama looks… confused. His hand drops so slowly, listlessly tracing down Hinata’s arm. Hinata shivers, eyelids fluttering against his will and a soft whine escapes him when he catches his lip between his teeth.

Kageyama is so clearly still asleep.

So when Hinata finally draws in a breath, glancing down to where Kageyama’s large, warm hand now lies pressed against the back of his on the floor, Kageyama curls his fingers around Hinata’s palm. Hinata swallows and looks back up to find Kageyama’s eyes still wide and… searching – searching for something, but fuck if he knows what.

“H-hey,” Hinata says quickly, jerking his hand away in lovesick agitation, “dammit, Kageyama, wake up. You’re—“

“I’m awake, dumbass.”    

Hinata jumps at the low, rumbling words. Then he stills.

But Kageyama doesn’t. He sighs deeply and drops his gaze, scrubbing his hands up his face before lolling his head back, letting it drop heavily against the couch cushions so he can stare up at the ceiling.

It’s Hinata’s turn to just stare at the other dumbly, searching Kageyama’s upturned face for any indication of _what the actual fuck_ ; but then Kageyama groans, dragging his head heavily up and off the cushion to slowly rise to his feet – only to collapse back onto the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his face into his hands.

“Thank you,” Kageyama murmurs.

It takes a second for Kageyama’s gratitude to register with Hinata, but then he finally shakes his head, snapping out of his stupor on the floor. “Thank you for what?” He asks.

Kageyama just gestures to the blanket, and to then the pillow before letting himself fall over onto it; it’s almost comical the way he stuffs his face into the pillow, groaning again all muffled and bringing his hands up to wrap the thing up around his ears before going limp, an arm flopping over the side of the couch. He turns over onto his back when Hinata shakily gets to his feet, doing the best he can not to look Kageyama in the face, but it’s really fucking difficult with Kageyama’s dark eyes all over him.

“You’re welcome,” Hinata eventually mumbles a little sadly. He sighs and turns with every intention of leaving, but he just can’t help chance another look back; and when he does, Kageyama is already asleep again, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Hinata fidgets, stepping once towards the doorway before breathing out in quiet exasperation and turning back; he sneaks quietly up beside the couch and cautiously drags the sleeping bag up and over Kageyama.

Yeah – he’ll really _really_ miss loving him.

So with a heart swelling with misplaced affection and heavy with grief, Hinata again turns to go. But then—

“Stay.”

Hinata freezes.

He turns back stiffly, wide eyes dropping to the warm hand that caught his. “What?”

“Stay,” Kageyama repeats, looking at Hinata, eyes barely open and entirely unreadable.

Hinata swallows and licks his lips, glancing nervously around the room. “Stay where, exactly?”

But instead of answering, Kageyama just releases Hinata’s hand and shuffles over, lifting the blanket off the space he just created and then pillowing his hands beneath the side of his head, watching Hinata expectantly.

And as if in a trance, Hinata steps forward (this is a bad idea), heart hammering so loudly in his ears he swears that Kageyama can hear it (this is a really bad idea) – but still he moves closer… and then he’s sitting on the couch (this is literally the worst idea), facing away from Kageyama and willing his body to stop shaking. Looking down at the space beside Kageyama, he slowly lowers himself as close to the edge as possible, eyes wide and panicked and pointed towards the TV. Kageyama must still be drunk.

Why the hell didn’t he just say no?

He jolts and squeezes his eyes shut when the sleeping bag covers him. There’s no way he’ll be able to sleep like this, he’s practically falling off the edge and he’s trembling like a leaf in the wind. There’s definitely _no_ way—

But then Kageyama curls an arm around him and pulls him in, tight and close to his chest, and before Hinata can even manage to suck in a surprised breath, Kageyama hugs tighter, his body warm and… somehow protective; he buries his face into Hinata’s hair and tucks his knees up behind his. And then he sighs contentedly, sleepy and happy, rustling red hair and breathing out in the softest, quiet, muffled murmur:

“Small.”

Something fractures inside Hinata, splintering into shards and dragging sharp, thrones biting through his veins, pricking open his chest.

And that’s when he starts to cry.

It isn’t ugly – it isn’t loud, awful sobbing, but rather silent tears well up and slip down over his cheek, dampening Kageyama’s pillow when he draws his trembling lip up between his teeth.

This might be the greatest thing he’s ever felt in his life – so comfortable and soft and perfect and… and it’s not even… it’s not…

 _It’s not even real_.

Hinata sniffs quietly and curses his lack of self-control. He knows Kageyama doesn’t realize what he’s doing, so why didn’t he just leave? Why didn’t he just walk out and never look back? But if he’s being honest with himself, he’d admit that he wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world. Even though it’s ravaging him from the inside out.

This can’t keep happening. Hinata can feel himself dying inside – hollowing; and this kind of thing is just going to keep happening again and again, until he’s nothing but an empty shell of his once bright, cheerful self. It’s just too trying, too exhausting and emotionally taxing to force all those smiles and to sing false excitement when his heart is squeezing inside his aching chest. So…

_So…_

So.

So not only does Hinata have to stop loving Kageyama, he has to end their friendship, too.

It’s just too much, and it’s killing him. This temporary, sleep-addled affection, the constant touching, the… the _weirdness_ of Kageyama that Hinata can’t understand, that he's doomed to _mis_ understand time after time, and it's only bound to get worse. He felt that scathing whisper of hope tonight that he's kept at bay since the beginning, and now… in Kageyama’s arms, he can hear it whir and hum in the shadows, knowingly poised in its wait to unfurl its tendrils and envelop him kindly, swaddling him in warmth and promise only to feed him its poison that Hinata is too stupid not to lap at and drink in with rabid greed.

The only way to escape is to keep Kageyama as far away as possible.

And just the thought of that is tearing him open.

But tomorrow… tomorrow when he wakes up…

God – he misses what it's like to feel whole and complete with his teammates, what it feels like to be unburdened by everything except maybe the blessed anxiety of a challenging match, to struggle only with how terrible he is at receiving or to perfect that intricate quick with…

With Kageyama.

He can do it. He can do this.

Tomorrow when he wakes up he’ll say his goodbyes. It will be the end of all this pining, this repulsive love that's eating him alive. This is it. This is the end, the last time—

Kageyama sighs again, nuzzling into his hair.

—almost.

Hinata chews his lip.

Well… if this is the last time…

Quietly, slowly, Hinata turns under Kageyama’s arm to face him, tucking his head under his chin and burrowing in closer to his chest. He winds his hands into Kageyama's hoodie and clings to him, crying silently into the soft fabric. The warm scent of Kageyama washes over him, earthy and clean and somehow just a little sweet, smoky from the fire, filling him in a way that makes him weak with both love and anguish, threading through his heart with tired sympathy; in his mind they are breathless on the court, skin tingling with sweat and victory when Kageyama throws his arms around him. In his mind Kageyama is smiling down at him with tears in his eyes, holding him close and laughing at the watery grin lighting Hinata’s face. In his mind he’s dropping his face into Kageyama’s jersey, sobbing with happiness amidst the cheer of the crowd. And there, in his mind, he’s telling Kageyama that he loves him – that’s he’s always loved him, and in his mind there is no hesitation, no fear or apprehension behind his words, because Kageyama cards his hands through his sweaty hair, tilting Hinata’s face up with fingers beneath his chin and says,

_“I love you too, Shouyou.”_

And Hinata’s heart is full instead of hollow, warm instead of needing. There – in his mind.

He shakes when a powerful sob rolls through him, gritting his teeth and pressing his tearstained face into Kageyama’s chest.

In his mind they’re running, Kageyama is chasing him through the rain with fresh grass beneath their feet and they’re laughing; in his mind he’s high from the race and from his affection for the boy behind him, and when he lets Kageyama catch him, lets Kageyama toss him down into the wet grass and climb over him, Hinata can plainly see that he’s not the only one. And when Kageyama kisses him, it’s soft and it’s gentle and it’s familiar – just like the loving hands in his hair, just like the smell of him when Hinata pulls Kageyama down, pressing his lips to his neck and whispering his confession once again to warm skin. And Kageyama loves him, too. He always has.

In his mind.

If this is the end, he has to remember everything.

Hinata sniffs again, choking quietly on a sob when Kageyama shifts, winding his other arm beneath Hinata to cradle his head, pressing them closer.

This is it – the last time this can ever happen. He has to remember the smell of him, the feeling of being wrapped in these strong arms. He _has_ to, because he’ll never feel it again.

He shudders out a breath, shoulders shaking, wracked and trembling with despair while his fingers flex hard, fisting into Kageyama’s sweatshirt with desperate longing; he can’t help but breathe out softly, strained and quiet and thin:

“I love you, Kageyama.”

Or maybe it would be better just to forget.

* * *

 

Hinata stirs.

It's warm – the sun on his face, its cordial, gossamer breath dancing along his lashes, ghosting over his skin and peering in beneath his eyelids gently.

And kindly.

The pinkish glow invites him back from the boundless peace of an effortless, pacifying sleep, guiding him up through the soft tranquil depths with a sweet caress over his tear-damp cheeks, fluttering his wet lashes – sympathetic and sad, its whisper feathery in a tender apology.

 _No,_ he thinks, squeezing his eyes tighter in feeble defiance. _Not yet_. _Please… I'm not ready._

Succumbing to the senselessness of sleep bought morning too soon, and as much as Hinata tried to prolong his night wrapped in Kageyama’s arms, drinking in his scent and listening to the soft thrum of his heartbeat, his sleep-starved body just couldn’t hold on.

And now, the soft call of the sun brings with it the promise he made to himself the night before.

And he’s not ready to say goodbye.

Against his better judgement, he cracks his eyes. During the night he managed to hitch his leg up over Kageyama’s hip and he’s more on top of him than anything, with one of Kageyama’s arms curled beneath his head and the other draped loosely over his back.

With a red face, Hinata slowly slips his leg off the other, carefully and self-consciously tugging his shorts down over his thigh where they rode up while he slept. Then he wipes the drool off his lips with the back of his hand.

And Kageyama is still asleep despite all the wiggling.

So Hinata raises his head to look him in the face, and again he's struck by the beauty of Kageyama while he sleeps.

Hinata swallows and gingerly lays his head back down on Kageyama’s shoulder. Kageyama is resting peacefully on his pillow, face angled just a little up and away from Hinata’s where he lies beside him, but still Hinata can appreciate the delicate smoothness of his pale skin, the rosy pink of his soft lips.

He's going to miss everything he never even had.

Blinking his stinging, sleepy eyes, he lets them wander freely over Kageyama’s sleeping face, allowing himself one dangerous second of imagining what it might be like to wake up every morning to the glow of the sun, opening his eyes to the beautiful sight before him now. Where he would get to smile happily and tuck himself back against the love of his life, surrendering again to sleep with the knowledge that he'll be greeted with much of the same upon waking once again.

And now, he does smile, but it's hopeless and fleeting, and he hates himself for imagining – for wanting. He thinks back to a short time ago, to the last time he awoke like this with Kageyama so close; how things have changed so drastically without changing at all. Nothing about his time spent loving Kageyama makes sense, least of all how there isn't the slightest hint of fear welling up in him now, not with Kageyama’s eyelashes fluttering, not with his arms around Hinata.

Getting ‘caught’ is the least of his worries right now.

And it's in that fearlessness Hinata knows that this is the end, that nothing beyond these last few minutes lying with Kageyama will ever feel quite the same again.

That isn't to say he doesn't think he’ll ever love again, but _this,_ he knows… this will always be special. And if Hinata believed even a little in what people call ‘soul mates’, Hinata would know for sure that he found his – even if his feelings were never returned, Hinata will always know deep in his heart that Kageyama was made for him… but, he supposes, even a perfect system is bound be flawed every now and again. Sometimes the net gets tangled, sometimes the ball loses air.

And sometimes love is lonely and sad.

Maybe whoever oversees their souls had a rough night. Maybe they just had their heart broken, too.

And Hinata can't fault them for that.

Maybe it's best that Hinata feel the brunt of that malfunction – he knows he can take it, that he's strong enough to overcome it. He'll gladly take the burden if that means someone else… maybe someone like Kageyama, would live a life free of this cruelty.

Yeah - he's being pretty silly.

But goddammit it _hurts_ ; let him rationalize.

And let him do… something else. Just one little thing, it's not much, he swears.

Carefully, slowly, Hinata raises a steady hand.

The first touch of Kageyama’s skin is warmer than he expected, than he remembers; he lets his fingertips glide softly over Kageyama’s cheek like they did once before, only this time Hinata knows he isn’t dreaming.

But he kind of wishes he was. Because that would mean he’s still asleep, still all wrapped up in Kageyama and maybe still hours away (though even a few more minutes would do) from fulfilling his promise.

He cups the side of Kageyama’s face gently, tracing his thumb up and over his cheek bone, imprinting the feel of it in every part of his memory. A month ago this would have felt wrong, that this is meant only for another time and another place, for someone who isn't… _him_.

Someone deserving, and someone loved.

But in this moment it just feels right. Because it's ‘goodbye’, after all.

He lets his fingers drift where they may – down over Kageyama’s chin, mapping his jawline, up again to that silly part of his brow that's always all crinkled, smoothed out now in the peace of sleep.

He's crying again. It's almost time.

And so his fingers skim back down, lingering over the softest lips he can imagine. He gently presses his thumb to them, gliding over and then back. His heart tugs at the flicker of a smile beneath his skin, and Kageyama sighs quietly. He grants his other fingers equal favor and draws them across beautiful pink – drinking in each point of contact, each special, unique in their meaning and feel. Mementos of what someone else is meant to have – reminders that it was never him.

And so with tears drying on his face, Hinata leaves behind the first and last touch of lips he’ll never know the taste of; and even when he brings his fingertips to his own mouth, pressing them to his own lips softly, he feels undeserving, as if he’s stealing something precious. But this is the end, and he can't help himself.

He’s still not ready, but he knows he'll never be; and through the choking pain winding around his chest, Hinata disentangles himself carefully, rolling slowly and silently off the couch and onto his knees beside it. If he doesn't do this now, he never will.

He leans in, lips trembling with sorrow but they still against Kageyama’s ear, and with his heart breaking apart he breathes:

“ _Think of it as a goodbye. I love you.”_

And then, despite it all, he smiles. And without a second thought he leans up, pressing his lips to Kageyama’s forehead with finality.

And then, he turns to go.

This time he doesn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @rukiahitachiin for proofing this!
> 
> This was definitely the most painful chapter for me thus far... thank you all for bearing with me this past year :,) your kind words and support have gotten me through a very difficult time, and I cannot WAIT to give you the satisfaction that you (and the boys) deserve!
> 
> And my dear friend @nekolyssi has done it again with her art... this slayer of souls, crusher of hearts... just [ LOOK AT WHAT SHE DID (/□＼*)・゜](https://nekolyssi.tumblr.com/post/161591938064/majesticartax-sobs-i-hope-youre-happyyyy) CLICK AT YOUR OWN RISK, OKAY!? BE WARNED! SADNESS INTENSIFIES!!!
> 
> Dear sweet @K-a-r-o-1221 conjured some black magic for [this one... YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE HINATA'S FREAKING FACE FOR MOST OF IT AND YET WE ALL KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HE'S FEELING AND IT'S BEAUTIFUL!??](http://k-a-r-o-1221.tumblr.com/post/161674795688/kageyama-is-so-clearly-still-asleep-if-you-like) HOW!? HOW DO YOU DO THIS WITH YOUR COLORS AND YOUR LINES!??
> 
> A certain miss @jaybele shattered my life into pieces today when she snuck up on me with [THIS. I stared at it for so long, absorbing every detail that I could.](http://jaybele.tumblr.com/post/163614661662/youd-think-i-would-have-given-up-on-this) Words fail to express how I feel about this :') Hinata just RADIATES light, he's so soft, so sad, and Kageyama looks so at peace... beautiful. absolutely beautiful <3


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this chapter into two parts, because I wouldn't have been able to update for at least another month if I kept it at the intended length and that made me sad. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the awkward exposition that I was forced into in some places here *sobs quietly into my pillow forever* I'll make it up to you guys in the future, I swear.
> 
> ALSO - damn, I forgot to add this when I posted the chapter - I don't know how volleyball tournaments work; I don't know the timing or the typical sports season or anything like that so I've come to the conclusion that I'm just going to have to make stuff up to fit with the story *sobs* so that means the boys will have their prelims in November and tournament in June! I... guess. Haha, I doubt anyone cares either way!

The door to the club room flies open wide, straining the hinges and trembling the walls, and there stands Kageyama – a dangerous flash sparking his eyes and a threatening rumble in his voice when he growls out,

“Where. Is he.”

There's a pause, and a startled first year peeks out from around a locker, and then,

“Gone,” Yuu says with a frown, shrugging on his coat while Tsukishima shoulders past the huffing setter, heavy breath fogging in the cold air that drifts in. Yamaguchi flashes Kageyama a look of sympathy as he sneaks past, but Kageyama doesn't notice. “I mean… he left,” Yuu continues, “right from practice, he said he—wait! What’s wrong—Kageyama!—“

But Kageyama is already flying down the stairs, past Tsukishima and Yamaguchi again and sprinting towards the bike rack, hot breath bursting from his lungs with every rapid footfall.

But obviously, as Yuu so pointedly put it, Hinata is long gone.

_Gone._

He staggers to a halt and just sort of stands there, staring at the bike rack and panting, open mouth sucking in chilly air and tremulous fingers running through sweaty black locks, pushing his bangs from his eyes as his mind tumbles and whirls, wheeling and turning and bumbling around the implications, the fucking _consequences_ or what-the-fuck-ever, of the only possible thing that Hinata could have whispered to him while he slept.

Maybe the _one_ thing that could ever explain his partner’s cold behavior.

Unseeing eyes blink towards the ground as the icy grip of dread digs its skeletal fingers deep into his gut.

And he feels the whisper of winter just then, the first snow of the year floating silently to the ground. He wipes a flake from his cheek.

So yeah, okay sure, for one glorious, _stupid_ second Kageyama thought – he fucking _thought_ that fucking _maybe_ Hinata had whispered that he loved him; a quiet confession, something not meant to be heard but Kageyama’s lovesick brain absorbed it anyway, that _maybe_ what Nishinoya saw wasn’t some trick of the light or the mind or the result of too much birthday celebration the night before.

But what Nishinoya told him just… it just doesn’t make any sense. It _can’t_ make sense because it just isn’t possible.

Kageyama knows all about possibilities; he understands them well. The court is a world of endless possibilities – endless maneuvers, tricks, actions, reasons – but possibilities all become probabilities once he understands the motives of the other players, after he examines their playing habits and figures out their game – teammates or opponents, whichever. Everyone divulges their secrets sooner or later, and as the Genius Setter he’s damn fantastic at reading them.

And eventually, he knows from experience, that probabilities become certainties.

And fuck, he knows Hinata’s game better than anyone.

So with his own jilted words of a hasty goodbye echoing loud and cruel in his ears, it’s certain what that idiot whispered to him that morning.

“God, if _only_ there were some way to reach him,” Tsukishima scoffs as he ambles past, “some type of _device.”_

“Tsukki, be nice…” Yamaguchi whispers and casts another one of those looks over his shoulder at Kageyama.

Kageyama’s head snaps up and he scowls. But then he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his warmup pants.

There's something in his blood set to rival the chill in the air and he can feel his fingers mustering the gall to tremble as he stares down at the dark screen, snow dotting the glass.

He huffs an exasperated breath through his nose and grips the phone hard and powers it on. He swallows, tongue pushing up against grit teeth and finger poised to his the ‘call’ icon beside Hinata’s contact info.

_Fucking dumbass._

But he can’t will it to move.

He shakes his head sharply and narrows his eyes, browbeating his finger into submission.

But still, it won't hit ‘call’.

And so his shoulders drop and face softens. He… he has to play this right.

Because the last thing Hinata needs, Kageyama figures, is some angry phone call (it's not like Kageyama is _actually_ angry… but he… knows how he sounds) demanding answers that maybe he just doesn't have yet.

His grip tightens on the phone, arm dropping to hang at his side and pained eyes rise to the dark street; some part of him thinks that if he hopes hard enough, he'll see Hinata’s shy little face peeking around the side of the gate, or maybe he’ll hear the telling _click click click_ of a bike approaching – maybe the dumbass forgot something or he realizes what a fucking dick he’s been so he finally can’t take it anymore so he’s coming back to apologize but the second he sees Kageyama he loses control and runs to him, leaping into his arms—

_Yeah. Okay._

But, fuck… he swears he can almost hear the bike…

Kageyama shakes his head.

_Stupid._

And he looks at his phone again.

Again, as much as he wants to call Hinata and ask him… fuck, just _anything_ about what happened that night, buried deep beneath this mire of rippling desperation he knows that it isn’t… it isn’t the _way._

He really can’t give Hinata another reason to push him away.

_Oh... is that... wait._

And there, staring out beyond the gate, that revelation sits like cement on his chest.

Suddenly he understands. Go fucking figure – the idiot is trying to do the exact same thing that Kageyama tried and failed at so miserably. He’s trying to push Kageyama away, only the little shit is _doing it_ ; and he’s doing it with ease. And that, without a doubt, is absolute proof that where Kageyama loves Hinata deeply and beyond all reason, Hinata just… doesn’t.

But it’s not like Kageyama didn’t know that already.

So then why does the reminder make him feel like he’s sinking.

_Gone._

Any feelings Hinata holds for him must not extend beyond some little crush, some physical attraction that’s easily vanquished when traversing those feelings became just a little too treacherous. Too fucking… _inconvenient_.

After Kageyama finally let him down one too many times.

And once Hinata has something in his head, he doesn’t give it up.

The dumbass doesn’t have perimeters. There’s no line he won’t cross to achieve a goal. It’s one of the reasons Kageyama fell in love with him – one of the stupid, pathetic, _cursed_ reasons now that that determination is circling back to bite Kageyama in the ass.

Kageyama suddenly realizes that he’s shaking – his breath is quick. He tries to quiet the thump of panic hammering against his heart.

Hinata is leaving him.

And he didn’t kiss him. There’s no _way_ he would have kissed him. Nishinoya was wrong… he just _saw wrong._

               _Jesus Christ. There’s another possibility, you know._

Kageyama blinks snow from his eyelashes.

_Another possibility._

_Well yes, you idiot. There are several if you would just—_

_Could Nishinoya have lied?_

_What? No! Why would you—_

_Okay no… no Nishinoya wouldn’t do that. So what then… what could have possibly—_

_THINK, Tobio._

_But what if… what if he_ did _lie._

_That isn’t—_

_What if they’re all in on it?_

What if they’ve all decided that Kageyama is no longer welcome and this is some new, clever way of severing him from the team—

_It’s all just been a matter of time, right? Isn’t that what Tsukishima said?_

That’s right – just a matter of time before he fell into his old habits, before his teammates turned on him, decided that he just isn’t worth it anymore. That Kageyama’s talents just can’t overshadow his horrible—

“Stop it,” he mutters, jerking his head to silence the oppressive voices in his head and scrubbing a hand down his sweaty face. He curls his fingers around the phone, squeezing it as his vision swims, the night around him warping and spinning. It’s hard to breathe.

_But they all know, don’t they?_

They do – _most_ of them, anyway; they know how Kageyama feels about the idiot, and so maybe they’re taking advantage of it… the King’s weakness. And now they’ve set out to break his heart because they just can’t deal with his shit anymore. They don’t want him as their teammate. He just isn’t fucking _worth it_ to them to put up with his horrible personality and they would rather lose games than have someone like him standing beside them on the court. They would rather have someone… someone fucking _normal_ ; someone who can joke and laugh and—

“Please… stop.” He puts his face in his hands.

—they’re finally going to dethrone the tyrant once and for all, as a team they’re going to break him, tear him down and throw him out, destroy the monster and make damn sure he’ll never darken another court again. They want someone better, someone so in all ways _not_ _him_. They are done, tired of him, he just isn’t fucking _worth_ it to anyone anymore, and Hinata… Hinata is the ring leader. He worked out Kageyama’s feelings and _he_ came up with the idea to do it this way, to slowly torture him to death, dangling this idea of love in front of his face and pretending all along that maybe he’s finally important enough to someone, only to rip it all away from him before—

“STOP!”

Kageyama’s plea echoes through the empty courtyard and his phone clatters to the ground.

“Stop it. Fucking _stop_ it,” he growls through grit teeth, heels of his hands pressing into his eyes. He takes a breath – a deep one – and then another. And the voices recede. With all the authority he can muster, he forces himself to stop shaking, for his lungs to open.

And he lets his hands fall from his eyes.

_Things are different here. You’re different now._

After several seconds of steady breathing he bends down to retrieve his phone.

 _You’re safe here,_ he reminds himself as he straightens up and slips the device back into his pocket.

He has friends here; Nishinoya, Tanaka, Yamaguchi, probably Yuu, and yeah, even fucking Tsukishima… they are all his friends. And despite whatever the hell is going on at the moment with Hinata, he is still his _friend._ A friend he’s madly in love with, but a friend all the same.

And Hinata isn’t going anywhere any time soon.

So… so yeah. Whatever this is, it will pass. Maybe Hinata just needs some time to figure things out… time to, uh, _process_ a couple things.

_It’s okay… it will all be okay._

He repeats that to himself while he turns, taking careful, measured steps back to the clubroom and moving slowly by the bike rack, eyes fixed and following the empty space where Hinata’s bike regularly sits.

If Hinata needs some time to figure out some Hinata things, then dammit, Kageyama will give that to him. It’s the least he can do after Kageyama… did… _whatever_ it is he did to warrant this type of behavior. Hinata is worth the pain Kageyama will feel in his absence, as long as it means that whenever he’s ready, after everything gets settled in that fluffy, bright orange head, Hinata will…

_Come back._

He puts from his mind all the reason, all the logic he’s accumulated in their days together, in their few years as partners and teammates and as friends.

He forgets the determination, the strength, the fucking impulsive bullheadedness that led Hinata down the path to Kageyama in the first place. The fact that Hinata doesn’t give up once he sets out to do something.

_‘I’ll always forgive you, Kageyama.’_

And so he feels a faint glimmer of hope; and maybe if he can hang on to the fragile feeling, he might find the strength to struggle through.

His heart shifts, rearranging itself around the ache he’s determined to keep at bay for as long as he has to.

But there it will remain, he knows – a signal to despair. That if he doesn’t tread carefully, doesn’t strategize and play this right, then maybe this time Hinata will really be

_Gone._

* * *

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* * *

 

Things are deteriorating fast for Kageyama.

This whole ‘giving Hinata time’ thing is more difficult than he ever expected.

Well… okay, maybe ‘deteriorating’ isn’t the best word, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it. Something is certainly _deteriorating_.

 _He_ is. _He’s_ fucking deteriorating.

It’s been about three weeks since Nishinoya told the story of _What Happened on the Couch_ , but absolutely nothing seems to line up. He’s spent hours poring over every detail of what he remembers, what he _knows_ about Hinata, what was told to him by Nishinoya, and Hinata’s subsequent behavior.

Yeah – _nothing_ makes any fucking sense.

Hinata’s actions continue to confound and slowly gnaw away at the deepest parts of him, nibbling at his sanity until his thoughts are so mixed up he can’t even be sure of… of…

Fuck, _that_ he doesn’t even know.

Prelims for the June tournament have come and gone, and despite the widening gap between the setter and his partner, the two of them were just as consistently in sync as they had always been. The rest of the team performed at their best, too, earning them a spot in the bracket come the summer games.

And of course, Kageyama is happy – how could he not be? Volleyball is still his whole life.

But without Hinata there beside him every step of the way, life is just…

So _dark_.

He just feels lost, meandering through the shadows without a torch to light his way. Hinata still hasn’t let Kageyama touch him (not that he’s tried again since that embarrassing little outburst at lunch), and he’s all but given up hope on the matter, internalizing his frustration and sinking deeper and deeper into himself.

He’s noticed the looks of concern in his teammates’ eyes – well, he _did._ At first. He doesn’t really look anyone in the eye these days, because if they’re not brown and sparkling and full of what Kageyama might have once called… shit, _maybe_ something like love, then they don’t interest him. The questions have stopped, too; no one bothers to ask if he’s okay anymore.

If his game doesn’t suffer, who really cares, right?

But it wasn’t Hinata’s coldness itself that, initially, made Kageyama feel like he was crumbling (although that alone is enough for him to want to rip his heart out), it was the inconsistency of it. The up and down, the fucking rollercoaster of elation followed by misery, hope to despair.

It’s ravaging him. No… no that’s wrong. Past tense – ravaged. His soul is in ribbons. There’s nothing left.

Kageyama chose to let things go for a couple days, just to let Hinata… _be_ , or something.

And it seemed to work. After a few days, Hinata was back to waiting for Kageyama by his locker, chattering away at him when they ate lunch, waiting for him by the gate after practice and walking home with him as if things were just as they should be.

Kageyama hoped the urgent relief didn’t show in his voice.

Except one day, Hinata isn’t there. He isn’t by Kageyama’s locker at lunch time, and he isn't at his, either.

He isn't in his classroom or their lunch spot or the gym.

He’s just… nowhere.

_Gone._

But he’s there at practice, laughing and galumphing across the court during drills, needling at Kageyama for this and that, and whining loudly to him that they won’t be playing an actual game for several weeks.

Except he didn't wait for Kageyama to walk home, after.

Again, he left directly from the gym and didn't even say goodbye.

And so it continues on like that – normal Hinata one day, cold Hinata the next.

Racing to the gym one morning, and radio silence the day following.

And then… it isn’t just one day that he’s gone, but two.

And then it’s three. And then four.

Every day Kageyama thinks about confronting him; every wide-awake night he types a text he doesn’t send.

Because he tells himself to wait… to just be patient.

And every day becomes harder, and he feels less and less like…

Like the person he became after Hinata barreled into his life.

Like he said, he’s deteriorating.

Until, eventually, after weeks of tearing his hair out over confusion and numbing loneliness, the only time they speak is at practice, and fuck, it’s not even so much ‘speaking’ as it is—

 

 

“What the fuck, dumbass!? Fucking focus!”

“ME focus!?” Hinata cries, aghast and fists balled at his sides when he jumps to his feet after crashing to the floor. “What kind of human could hit a toss like that!?”

“Well, YOU, for one! If you would just get your head out of your ass! It’s like you forgot how to play all of a sudden! You’re lucky you didn’t pull this shit during prelims or you would have fucked everything up for everyone—“

“Ex- _cuse_ me!?” Hinata feels the blood rushing up to his face, his pulse spiking with rage as he stomps his way over to the setter. “You’re the one line-driving tosses at my face like some kind of psychopath all the goddamn time! How the hell do you expect me—“

“A PSYCHOPATH! I’ll show you a fucking PSYCHOPATH YOU FUCKING—“

“I swear to GOD, if you two don’t shut the HELL UP I will throw you both out of this gym!” Ennoshita’s frustrated voice echoes from across the gymnasium, carrying with it the threat of danger.

Kageyama snaps his mouth shut and narrows his eyes, glaring down at Hinata as Hinata glares up at him, expression matched and huffing angrily. Hinata feels his fingers tingle – he’s itching for a fight, he’s _daring_ Kageyama to say one more goddamn thing and he’ll throw him out of the gym himself.

What!? He could if he wanted to!

Because _fuck_ him. Fucking _fuck_ stupid Kageyama for everything that Hinata has been going through these past weeks – these past… years! Hinata has been suffering in silence for so long and Kageyama quite clearly couldn’t possibly care any less. Shit, it’s not like Hinata expected him to like… chase after him once he started pushing him away, or anything. But _some_ acknowledgement would have been nice! _Some_ question about why Hinata has been absent and different and—

But then Kageyama blinks. And then he sighs; face falling before he hangs his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Hinata’s eyes get a little wide and he falters only for a second before he decides he doesn’t give a shit; he’s still all fired up, positively _fuming_ , feathers all ruffled and chest puffed up, face hot. All this time spent… _weeks_ crying every night over how much he misses his best friend, and Kageyama doesn’t even care. Not _once_ has he given Hinata even the slightest indication that he gives a shit that he’s disappearing from his life.

But when sad blue eyes raise to his, Hinata’s heart throbs, filling his chest with something far from anger.

Kageyama rasps out: “Hinata—“

“Alright, guys! Listen up!”

_God bless you, Ukai._

The coach's voice booms loudly through the gymnasium. Hinata swallows, blinking away from Kageyama to escape quickly, jogging over to where the rest of the team is assembling. Kageyama follows slowly behind.

“This will be quick, so don’t bother sitting. As you obviously know,” Ukai continues, “your performance last week at prelims has awarded you a spot at the June tournament, but—“

Whatever else their coach is trying to say is drowned out completely by a bunch of whooping and hollering from Nishinoya and Tanaka, and when Hinata joins in, he instinctively wheels around to smile up at Kageyama, big and toothy and wide, but then he remembers he’s mad at him, so he blushes furiously and lets his face fall. Kageyama frowns, and Hinata sticks out his tongue before snapping back to face forward.

“—but that being said,” Ukai resumes while the cheers die down, “I would like to stress something important that I’m going to be enforcing from here on out. Now, some of you know that………”

Hinata runs a hand over the back of his neck and squirms, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He’s trying to listen to his coach but suddenly all he can focus on is the fact that Kageyama is directly behind him, only a few inches away. All this avoiding he’s been doing has made Hinata hyper aware of the proximity of the other now, and this might be the closest they've been since Nishinoya’s party, apart from split second maneuvers on the court. He's been doing well trying to rid himself of the familiarity of Kageyama’s touch… though he admittedly went overboard a little in the beginning; really, he didn’t mean to, like, _scream_ every time Kageyama came near him, but he really didn’t know what else to do… how else to keep those beautiful hands away from him—

“………and we can't be having any injuries as a result of overworked muscles and fatigue………”

He wonders what they are doing right now, those hands – does Kageyama have his arms folded over his chest? Are they hanging at his side, fingers still, or fidgeting?

Will he ever know their touch again?

If he’s able to maintain his trajectory, the answer is _no._

And each time he remembers that, his heart twists.

But he can’t break – it’s been a month, and if he lets his guard down now, he’ll have to start all over again.

So now he just avoids the whole situation – he avoids Kageyama when the temptation to let him touch becomes too great. Like on days when he’s longing for it, daydreaming about it, where he might slip and all this effort will have been in vain. Days when a single, casual brush of Kageyama’s fingertips over his skin would cause his self-assurance to crumble.

Some days are torture, and he finds himself absently dragging his own hands roughly through his hair in the middle of class, brushing his fingers slowly over his lips or down his throat, simulating ways Kageyama hasn’t even touched him, but still his skin lingers with the ache for Kageyama’s calloused palms; sometimes during practice Hinata will catch the faint scent of him as they run past each other during a quick, and suddenly they’re right back on that couch in Tanaka’s sunroom, with Kageyama’s arms all wrapped around him and Hinata’s face pressed in close to his chest. Those are the days that Hinata has to get the fuck out of there in a hurry.

And he thought the pain… the _missing_ Kageyama would have lessened by now.

How wrong he was. It just seems to be growing in strength.

 _Some_ days are torture? Fucking _all_ days are torture.

“………the importance of rest days,” Ukai’s voice fades back in. “A _couple_ of you don’t seem to know what that means, and even though you’ve proven that your practice strategies are more than effective, I can see burnout becoming a potential problem in the future. So, starting today, I’m enforcing one mandatory rest day a week. I don’t care what you do in that time as long as it doesn’t include any strenuous activity.”

Tanaka’s hand shoots up. “Does that include sex?”

Nishinoya laughs out loud and Yamaguchi and a few of the first years start to giggle. Hinata gives a little mechanical titter as well.

“I don’t know why _you_ would be concerned about that………” Hinata hears Ukai taunt before slipping back beneath the surface of his own thoughts.

Time without Kageyama just moves more… slowly. Every agonizing second is like a pinprick against his skin, a cruel reminder that he’s… _alone_ in this loneliness, and that Kageyama doesn’t seem to give a shit about him.

_So dramatic._

Well… alright, at _first_ Kageyama seemed mildly annoyed with the way Hinata has been acting. He yelled at him, for one, a few weeks ago when Hinata was ducking Kageyama’s attempts to hang out with him while they ate lunch, but that’s really the only time Kageyama addressed it. In fact, the setter has seemed rather preoccupied by something unrelated these past few weeks, and Hinata can’t quite work out what it is. Not like they’ve spoken much, obviously, but every once in a while, Hinata will catch a flicker of… of _something_ in Kageyama’s face; traces of what he maybe would call _defeat_ lingering there in his expression. Hinata started to notice this preoccupation weeks ago, the day following Kageyama’s hissy fit at lunch.

That day… it was a particularly bad one. Twice Hinata left class to cry alone in the bathroom. The ache of Sunday morning still felt fresh and heavy on his heart, and given Kageyama’s anger the day before, Hinata thought that maybe Kageyama would seek him out to berate him again, and _that_ only made him cry harder. But Kageyama hadn’t.

At practice, Kageyama wouldn’t even look at him. He seemed to be heavily distracted by something; his tosses carried just a little too much error, his speed was lacking.

Hinata made up his mind to ask him what was wrong once practice ended (just one little question wouldn’t hurt, right? And it’s not like Kageyama would likely tell him anything, anyway), but as Hinata was helping sweep up, Kageyama sprinted out of the gym like it was on fire. Curiosity got the best of him and he cut his cleaning short, stowing the broom in the equipment room and sneaking over to the window. He hoisted himself up with the bars, peeking out just in time to see Kageyama dragging Nishinoya around to the back of the gym.

He hopped back to the floor, eyes wide.

That sure was… unexpected.

 _“Are you alright?”_ Yuu’s asked quietly as he wheeled the ball cart past.

 _“I don’t… know,”_ Hinata replied, watching the floor. _“I need to… leave. I have… things.”_

_“Things?”_

Hinata shook his head, eyes rising to the first year. He smiled. _“To do! Things to do, I mean! Important things! I-I’ll see you tomorrow!”_

He snatched his jacket and left his water bottle on the bench (he would get it tomorrow) and made sure the coast was clear before he ran to his bike, hopping on and quickly pedaling away.

A quarter of a mile into his ride he had to drag his bike to the side of the road after the weight of the tears became too heavy.

He didn’t even realize that it started to snow.

It hadn’t even been a week yet and Kageyama already found someone else to manhandle.

Caught up in his grief, Hinata swung his bike around and headed back to the school. He had no plan – no idea what the hell he was going to do when he confronted Kageyama, but he ditched his bike along the fence of the school and stomped towards the gate. He ignored the pause from Tsukishima and Yamaguchi as he passed them, wiping his eyes hard with his sleeve. But right as he took a step beyond the threshold of the gate he saw Kageyama standing there, staring down at his phone. Hinata gave a squeak of surprise and hopped back behind the bricks.

He pressed himself back against the wall, tears temporarily suppressed by his heart in his throat.

What the hell was Kageyama doing?

And mustering all his nerves, he knelt on the cold ground, bare knees bitten by pebbly asphalt, but he couldn’t have been bothered by that.

Kageyama was acting weird, and Hinata needed to know why.

And so he peered slowly around the side of the gate, face low to the ground.

But Kageyama was still just standing there, staring out into the street. But he looked… injured.

Hinata wet his lips, focusing on Kageyama’s furrowed brow, shadows flitting across his face, and snow (ah, yes, he noticed) dropping lightly from the night sky, delicate flakes dusting his dark hair.

Fuck Kageyama for being so beautiful.

Visible puffs of breath left the setter in quick huffs, his mouth dropping open as if to say something, but snapping shut before he did. Kageyama was definitely having some type of argument with himself.

 _“What’s wrong with you?”_ Hinata whispered, the desire to jump up and run to the setter filling him up, drop by drop.

There’s definitely something wrong; Kageyama keeps shaking his head, hands rubbing down his face and fingers winding into his hair. Something was _happening_ right before Hinata’s eyes and yet he couldn’t will himself to move.

Kageyama was hurting. He was shaking, Hinata could see it – battling with himself or something; it’s the only way Hinata could have ever described it, and he was mesmerized. He’d never seen Kageyama behave this way before.

And then he spoke.

_“Stop it.”_

Hinata jumped at the sound, ducking back behind the safety of the bricks and clapping a hand over his mouth to hide the fog from his panting breath. He considered pressing a hand to his chest to quiet the hammering of his heart as well.

Brown eyes shifted wildly from side to side. Hinata felt sick; he felt _wrong_. Whatever was happening to Kageyama, it was bad, and no matter _what_ was happening to Hinata as a result off his own pathetic feelings had nothing to do with what Kageyama was going through right now, and he should _be there_ for him. What kind of fucking friend was he? Spying on Kageyama while he fell apart like some kind of… of…

_“Please… stop.”_

Hinata drew his knees up at the fragile whisper of misery from the other side of the gate and wrapped his arms around them, hiding his face against his cold skin as the tears sprung up again.

But perhaps the worst thing of all was that Hinata was jealous. He wished so hard that… _whatever_ was happening to Kageyama was for _him_ – wanted to somehow have the power to make Kageyama feel enough to be as miserable as Hinata had been.

And knowing that about himself made Hinata feel like a monster.

_“STOP!”_

Hinata let out a sob and clapped his hands over his ears at Kageyama’s cry, cowering and desperate to go to him, to console him, to tell him that it will all be okay.

But he didn’t.

And after what felt like several hours of silence Hinata finally wiped at his damp face and peeked back around the bricks, and Kageyama was walking away.  

That night the snow didn’t stick.

And Hinata cried so hard he thought he would die.

The days to follow weren’t much better.

Well… no, he’s exaggerating. But not _that_ much.

And it wasn’t like Hinata could walk up to Kageyama and be like ‘hey I was spying on you while you lost your shit, how’s that going?’ so he didn’t say anything. But Kageyama seemed to be alright… sort of. He just looked tired all the time. Maybe he was having family issues? Either way, Hinata figured it was none of his business, and he didn’t want to upset Kageyama by asking.

And that godawful jealousy never faded.

Days were hard and nights were harder; because at least being around other people served as enough of a distraction that he wasn’t bogged down by his emotions every second of the day, but still, simmering just beneath the surface was always this unfulfilled desire to be close to Kageyama, to talk to him and, yes, to have those hands on him.

And _fuck_ Kageyama for letting Hinata know what he’s been missing.

Because like he said… nights were harder.

Plagued by memories, by thoughts of what _could_ have been – what _might_ have happened that night on the couch given different… circumstances.

Memories accompanied by innocently light touches over his pajamas, trailing featherlight over his stomach and his thighs at the reminder of hands pressed against his back, the weight of strong arms around him. Brushing his knuckles softly over parted lips at the memory of Kageyama’s scent, his touch becoming less innocent when he let himself unravel, fingers slipping beneath the loose waistband of his shorts and hand rucking up his sleep shirt.

And each night ends with his fingers buried deep inside himself, small hand raking across his chest or wrapped around his leaking cock or fingers in his mouth as he comes in thick, hot streaks up onto his chest or across his sheets. Or both.

Always followed by the grief-ridden sobbing that carries him off to sleep.

Every single night, touch-starved and needy, he tells himself that it can’t get any worse than this, that it isn’t humanly possible to miss someone any more than he does already, to be any more desperate for someone’s touch.

Every night to follow he finds out he’s wrong.

And now, _right_ now, in the gym surrounded by his teammates, Hinata can feel Kageyama’s heat against his back. But worst of all, he can _smell_ him.   

And suddenly the need hits him like a cinder block to the face. He feels it rattling deep in his bones, zipping down his spine and scrubbing hot over his skin. It makes his heart jar and breath hitch. A rabid desperation he’s never known—

_Touch me._

That phrase ricochets off the inside of his skull, repeating over and over again with a growing intensity.

_Touch me. Touch. Me._

He can feel his lips move at the words. Fingers twitch, twining in the hem of his t-shirt to keep them from roaming. He wants to run his hands over his body; the places where Kageyama could get more skin beneath his hands in one gentle pass of his palm than Hinata ever could. He wants to play his fingers over all the places Kageyama could use to take him apart – up the sensitive sides of his ribcage, across the skin of his throat, low on his belly and the soft insides of his thighs—

_Please touch me._

His skin rushes with the memory of it, compromised by the urgency of the need; long, sturdy fingers grabbing at his hair, crawling down the back of his neck, one hand gently encircling his throat while the other smooths down his chest. God, he needs it; he _needs_ it—

_Touch me. Please touch me. TOUCH ME. TOUCH ME YOU STUPID FUCKING—_

“Hinata, I’m mostly talking about you and Kageyama so please pay attention.”

“Sex!?” Hinata yelps, “what!?” startling from his thoughts and jumping a mile at their coach’s accusation – staggering directly into Kageyama behind him.

Several sets of confused eyes turn and fix on the perverted little daydreamer, caught by the shoulders in Kageyama’s strong grip. Hinata is paralyzed – his thin t-shirt does nothing to cool the heat from Kageyama’s hands against him, nor dampen the feel of the setter’s abs and chest now pressed against his back.

And those fingers squeeze gently – a question, perhaps. Hinata can’t help it – he snaps his head up, craning his neck to look Kageyama in the face.

“He’s talking about practicing every day, idiot. What the hell is wrong with you.”

There’s something boarding on what could be identified as relief hanging in Kageyama’s voice; at least Hinata _would_ have noticed that if he weren’t melting into a puddle of embarrassment all over the gym floor. And, you know, all pressed up against the cause of all his problems.

“O-oh,” Hinata says, blinking dumbly up at Kageyama.

The setter scowls and presses Hinata a couple inches forward before slowly releasing him, fingers taking their damn time to uncurl from his shoulders and slipping down over his biceps before he steps back and away from Hinata. Kageyama’s cheeks are a soft shade of pink when he returns his attention to Ukai.

“Yeah,” Ukai confirms while the rest of the team peel their eyes away from the heat of mortification rising into Hinata’s face, “I can’t have you guys getting hurt with your nonstop practicing. I should have mentioned this a _long_ time ago, but I’m going to need you two to cool it from now on, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Kageyama and Hinata mumble in unison, brown eyes locked on the floor while Hinata rubs at his shoulders where he can still feel the impression left by Kageyama’s fingers. He realizes what he’s doing and stops abruptly.

_It… wasn’t enough._

At the finale of Ukai’s little speech, all the boys agree, they _swear_ to at least one rest day a week. Their coach spends just a little extra time with eyes narrowed in Kageyama and Hinata’s general direction, but they both vow to follow his orders.

“That isn't exactly a problem anymore, really,” Kageyama tells Ukai before they break. Ukai nods, satisfied.

And Hinata wonders just what exactly Kageyama meant by that. But he lets it go.

But there was something in his tone that still hung between them, setting Hinata on edge – fuck, even _more_ on edge than before.

And so during their walk back to the clubroom, with both of them lagging behind and Hinata staring at Kageyama’s back several feet in front of him, he decides to say something.

“KAGEYA—“ Hinata jumps at the volume of his own voice, “…ma…” he finishes sheepishly.

But Kageyama remains unfazed, ascending the stairs with nothing more than a glance back over his shoulder.  “What.”

“Do you… did you… um… when you said—“

At the top of the stairs Kageyama stalls, turning around slowly. And Hinata stops, too.

“What,” the setter repeats gruffly, the three steps between them dramatically magnifying their height difference, “spit it out.”

“I… I don’t…” Hinata swallows thickly, looking off to the side to escape the cold scrutiny of blue eyes, the lights behind him throw a malevolent shape to his silhouette. It hurts, to be looked at like that. Hinata wants to say as much, but he doesn’t. So with his heart in his shoes he mumbles, “never mind.”

And Kageyama blinks down at him. And for a second, it looks as if he has loads to say, giving Hinata a long, focused look. But the moment passes quickly and he says nothing. He turns away.

“Kageyama,” Hinata says weakly, stepping up and reaching a hand out towards him, catching the hem of Kageyama’s sweatshirt before he knows what he’s doing. But he withdraws it as if burned when blue eyes flash back at him. He’s losing control, he can feel it pouring out if him, his resolve leaking out onto the steps. He wants Kageyama to look at him, even if it hurts. Even if Kageyama is yelling and screaming and telling him to fuck off again he just wants to be the subject of his attention.

It would be weird, right? To ask Kageyama to touch him? To just… grab his hair a little? Maybe if he says he has something… in his eye or something! Yeah! Then Kageyama will come look and maybe he’ll touch him, grab his head to keep him still, or in the very least be close to him, or maybe if he says his shoulders are sore Kageyama will offer to rub them a little? Yeah… yeah that’s it… he’ll ask for Kageyama to give him a massage and then Hinata will come in his pants and then he’ll have to quit school and leave town and he’ll spend the rest of his days homeless living in a box under a bridge—

“Could you… do you think… well, you see… um…” Hinata taps his fingers together shyly, averting his eyes.

But the step Kageyama takes towards him catches Hinata off guard and he takes a sharp step backwards as well.

Onto nothing but air.

Immediately there’s a fist wound in his t-shirt, hauling Hinata back forward before it even registers to him that he’s falling.

“Dumbass,” Kageyama scolds flatly, releasing Hinata now that his feet are safely back on solid ground. “You’re going to have to be more careful from now on.” And then he turns and walks away; as if he didn’t just save Hinata’s life.

Hinata’s eyes widen to saucers while he slowly realizes what just happened and his heartrate skyrockets, thumping out of control beneath the trembling hand pressed against his chest. He almost died. He almost _died!_ He drops to one knee on the top step, the pace of his breathing matching his wild pulse.

“K—Kageyama!” He shouts one last time at the floor, right as Kageyama reaches the clubroom door.

Kageyama sighs, rubbing his eyes. “What?”

Hinata owes him his life, or at least the price of several broken bones and traumatic brain injury. He wants to thank him, but for some reason, with his face pointed at the floor, all he manages to blurt out is:

“I’m sorry!”

When Hinata raises his head, Kageyama is staring at him with nothing in his expression but exhausted contempt. “No you’re not,” he says before stepping through the door and closing it behind him.

It takes Hinata several more minutes to collect himself, before his jell-o, _You Almost Just Died You Big Idiot-_ legs allow him to move.

And he has no idea what he just apologized for.

But Kageyama sure seems to. And something tells Hinata that he’s probably right.

* * *

 

Hinata grumbles quietly, mashing his pencil eraser against some shitty lines that could maybe possibly pass for a volleyball net if you squint really hard. Or just shut your eyes and just imagine what a volleyball net would look like.

_Stupid._

He throws the pencil down in frustration and flops dramatically over his desk, face pillowed against his outstretched arm.

Study hall is for sleeping, anyway.

“Hey, Hinata.”

Or not.

“Hey, Yamaguchi,” Hinata replies with a wide yawn, sitting upright and knuckling at his eyes as Yamaguchi drags a chair over and sits beside him.

“So, I was—oh!” Yamaguchi blinks down at Hinata’s notebook, “I didn’t know you could draw.”

Hinata sighs and glares at his garbled mess of sketchy-ass lines and eraser shavings. “I can’t,” he says, closing the cover.

“Sure looks better than anything I could ever do,” the other boy says with a sniff.

Hinata folds his arms across his chest and pouts his lips.

“Oh look, it’s snowing,” Yamaguchi comments, staring out the window.

Hinata hums, zoned out and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“So,” Yamaguchi continues, still watching big flakes swirl around outside, “Tsukki and I were thinking… since it’s Kageyama’s birthday next week and we have that sports banquet thing the night before, we could take him to that arcade right down the road from there—“

“ _Tsukishima_ and you were thinking?” Little brows arch up.

“Well yeah,” Yamaguchi frowns. “It was actually his idea.”

Hinata turns his face to the front of the room. His mind is blown. Then he snaps out of it and gets all excited, turning towards his teammate. “Yeah! And we have off for winter break the next day! We could stay out late!”

“Exactly!” Yamaguchi grins. But then his smile flickers, wavering. He looks away. “So… you’re in, then? You’ll come?”

Hinata cocks his head. “Of course… why wouldn’t I?”

“Well,” Yamaguchi clears his throat and looks back at Hinata, “n-nothing. I mean, no reason, I guess, I mean,” Hinata blinks dumbly while the other boy struggles around something, “you guys have just been—“

Hinata waves a hand dismissively and smiles, his stomach twisting up into knots.  “We’re fine,” he lies.

“Right!” Yamaguchi rubs at the back of his neck nervously. “I-I know that! I just… thought that maybe you had something already planned… anyway!” He goes back to grinning. “Cool! I’ll see who else wants to go at practice later. If Nishinoya is still borrowing his mom’s minivan to drive a bunch of us to the banquet, he probably won’t mind driving us there, too. Worst case scenario we can walk, I guess.”

Hinata nods enthusiastically. “I can’t wait! Does Kageyama already know, or is it a surprise?”

“Um…” Yamaguchi looks away again. “I—I mean _we_ were sort of thinking you could ask him? Or at least tell him what we were thinking?”

“O-oh!” Hinata straightens up a little. “Um, why me?”

Yamaguchi shrugs, cheeks pink. “It just… might seem more… you know,” Yamaguchi gestures vaguely, “if it came from you.”

Hinata doesn’t get it, but he agrees anyway. “Uh… y-yeah,” he replies slowly, “sure I’ll… ask him.”

And Yamaguchi is all smiles again when he rises to his feet. “’kay! I’ll see you at practice later, then!”

Hinata flashes him a grin in return when they say their goodbyes. And then he slumps forward, bashing his head on the desk.

* * *

 

A frustrated sigh rushes out of Kageyama as he yanks his mangled tie through the collar of his grey dress shirt for the fifth time.

He glares at himself in the mirror affixed to his bedroom door before throwing the damn tie onto his bed. And then he joins it, sinking down onto the mattress and dropping his face into his hands.

It’s the night of the school sports banquet; it’s an annual event bordering on a Christmas party, honoring all the school’s sports teams and a chance for all the coaches to listen to themselves talk and hand out awards for most valuable players and most improved and whatever else they feel like recognizing players for that year, to kick off winter break and for the team captains to embarrass their teammates with the gag awards.

Last year he and Hinata won best couple.

It was… you know what hilarious is, right?

Fucking not that.

Kageyama groans.

But that was… _before_ , and he doubts the team would do that to him this year. They seem to be _vaguely_ aware _,_ at least, that something hasn’t been right between the duo. So when Hinata asked him if they all could take him out tonight, he was shocked to say the least.

Shocked and precariously teetering on elation.

But now he’s just nervous, knee bouncing and jostling his elbow where it rests.

He’s nervous and he _hates_ it. He doesn’t wear the emotion well and it makes him feel off-kilter – hyper-conscious of himself.

He _fucking hates it._  

It’s just another shitty feeling to seep into his skin, thick like tar and weighing him down. Sometimes he thinks that’s all that’s keeping him going these days; he’s just one big sopping towel of toxic sludge whose ingredients struck the perfect balance to coagulate and spark a lifelike—

_Okay. Ew._

The point is, he desperately needs to be rung out.

And despite the crippling loneliness, he’s been hanging in there.

_Ha._

Yeah… no, he hasn’t. Not at all.

Nothing quite reflects weeks of numbness like denial. Especially when the ghosts of memories haunt more than usual.

And it’s agony inside his own head.

He remembers when hope was some sort of beacon – a light calling to him amidst a heady blackness.

But that light has long since dimmed; he’s let his eyes adjust to the dark.

He jolts at the quiet knock at the door. Probably his mom to tell him that Nishinoya is here to pick him up.

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely, eyes sliding to the discarded tie, “I’m coming.”

But then,

“Kageyama?” A small voice peeps through the door.

And Kageyama is yanking open the door before he even realizes that his brain gave the order to move.

Hinata yelps at the suddenness of the door flying open, mittened hands raised at either side of his face in startled surrender.

But then he dissolves into an easy smile, eyes unyielding and as sparkling as ever above a plushy yellow scarf.

“Hi!” He says.

Kageyama’s breath catches in lieu of a greeting. _Fuck_ , he loves him.

“Are you ready to go?” Hinata asks, oblivious, pushing the scarf down away from his mouth. It feels foreign to see Hinata in the doorway, and Kageyama takes a second to quietly mourn the loss of the little tornado bursting into his room. It hurts so bad to think that those days are over, but… they probably are.

Kageyama swallows the lump in his throat before he answers. But his pulse starts to quicken, thrumming with a tingling kind of electricity. Hinata is here, outside his bedroom, and all Kageyama wants to do is gather him up, squeeze him tight and let the night slip around them slowly, silent and warm. They wouldn’t have to talk or move and Hinata could leave him in the morning, if Kageyama could only have just a couple hours… fuck, a couple _minutes_ —

“Ah, y-yeah,” he says haltingly, letting go of the doorknob and blinking at the tie that somehow managed to get wound up in his white-knuckled fist.

He doesn’t remember doing that.

“Hurry up and get that on,” Hinata says, biting at the thumb of a mitten and yanking it off. “I’m roasting to death.”

Kageyama scowls, fist clenching tighter around the shiny black fabric. “Don’t you tell me what to do.”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “Fine, do what you want.”

“Um…” blue eyes look back and forth from the tie to Hinata’s flushed face, and it does, indeed, seem like the boy is roasting to death, albeit adorably. Kageyama can’t help himself, so he asks, “do you want to… come in, then? I’ll be…” the tail end of his sentence follows Hinata barging his way into the room anyway, unzipping his winter coat and dropping his mittens to the ground, only to stick his hands to his hips impatiently, “…a second.”

“Come on, already! I’m starving!”

“When are you not starving,” Kageyama grumbles, shutting the door quietly and biting his lip to keep the smile from showing. He can feel the nervous energy reforming, shifting to take on a more optimistic pattern. But he makes sure to steel his face again, eyes watching Hinata in the reflection behind him before turning his attention back to his goddamn tie. And apparently he hesitates just a bit too long, blinking down with just a little too much confusion because he hears a little huff behind him and Hinata says,

“Je- _sus_ , have you never tied a tie before?”

“Shut up!” Kageyama’s eyes flash with mild outrage at the suggestion and he wheels around, brow furrowed. “I know how to do it!”

And then Hinata blinks, his face rearranging itself into a look of actual surprise. “Oh my god, you haven’t, have you?”

“I have!” Kageyama feels his face redden and he turns back around to hide it, but, you know, the mirror and all. He loops the tie around his neck, fighting to escape the scrutiny of shining brown eyes. “I… I can do it!”

“Yeah well, you’re doing it wrong.”

“I am _not_ doing it wrong!” The setter grinds out, making sure the ends of the tie are even around his neck before crossing the one tail over… no, the other one, the skinnier one over… no no wait, the fat end has to go—

“This is painful to watch.”

“Like you can do any better!” Kageyama spits, whipping back around.

And Hinata scoffs, parting his coat over his chest and pointing at his own tie.

“There’s no way you did that yourself!”

“What kind of idiot doesn’t know how to tie a tie!?”

“Shut. _UP._ ” Kageyama snaps, throwing the tie to the ground. “Let’s just go,” he growls, grabbing the doorknob and cracking the door. He pauses, breathing out in agitation; he says to the wood, “I don’t know why we even have to dress up for this stupid thing. It’s not like we aren’t _all_ always wearing jerseys or practice clothes the rest of the fucking year, and we don’t even know most of those stupid people so who cares if—what are you doing?” Kageyama cuts his rant short, watching Hinata bend down to retrieve the cursed garment and smooth it out between his fingers.

“What the hell happened to it?” He asks, nose as wrinkled up as the fabric in his hands.

“I… tried tying it a couple times before you got here,” Kageyama admits awkwardly, his face feels so ridiculously hot. He wants to wrap the tie around Hinata’s neck and drag him out the door with it.

“With what, a lawnmower?”

“I-I told you to shut up!” Kageyama sputters, releasing the doorknob. “So what if I never learned how to tie the fucking thing!? I play volleyball, I’m not some business man—”

But then Hinata steps past him, shutting the door again quietly. He huffs out a slow breath, a sly, wobbly smile tugging at his lips.

“If you wanted my help, you could have just asked, idiot.”

“What?” Kageyama snaps.

Hinata sighs. “Let me tie it so we can go, okay?”

This catches Kageyama off guard. “Okay,” he agrees way too quickly.

“Alright,” Hinata says. But he doesn’t move.

“What?”

“Uh, come here?” Hinata says with an arch of a brow.

Kageyama swallows and looks around, suddenly a stranger in his own bedroom. But he steps forward, eyes pointed to the side.

Hinata squares himself in front of Kageyama and reaches up, throwing the thing around the setter’s neck in a loop.

Kageyama’s eyes flick towards Hinata’s face; he’s… close.

Very close.

Obviously Kageyama doesn’t have to mention how good he smells.

Kageyama eventually realizes he’s been holding his breath, and he tries to let it out without calling attention to himself. When he dares look back at Hinata, his tongue is poking out the corner of his mouth, eyes set in hard concentration.

And Kageyama can’t help but smile.

“I knew you couldn’t do it.”

“Quiet,” Hinata mumbles, “I almost… ugh, dammit.” He tugs at the knot, loosening it completely and resetting. Kageyama’s heart skips a beat when warm fingers brush over his throat.

He tries again, this time when he steps back the tie is halfway up Kageyama’s chest.

“What the hell!?” Hinata growls out his frustration and yanks on the tie, tugging Kageyama a couple jarring inches downward.

“O-ow— just give it up,” Kageyama tells him as Hinata throws the tie over him one more time.

“It’s not my fault you’re a giant!” Hinata cries. “And I’m doing it backwards like this, ass.” He huffs again, dramatically unwinding his scarf and shucking his coat, dropping both to the floor before sticking his fists to his hips and looking around the room.

Blue eyes pass quickly over what Hinata has chosen to wear for the evening. Not unlike Kageyama, he’s wearing black dress pants and a black tie, though where Kageyama’s button up shirt is grey, Hinata’s is white, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. He looks… bizarrely well put-together. Minus the volleyball socks with little ‘10’s all over them, but that’s to be expected. Kageyama isn’t used to seeing him dressed in anything besides loose t-shirts and shorts and hoodies, so the way the dress shirt follows the lean borders of his body, accentuating the slimness of his waist and the definition of his small chest, makes Kageyama’s body feel hot, a creeping heat moving downwards… low.

Too low. _Way_ too low.

He shoves his hands into his pockets.

He’s also wearing—

“Suspenders?”

“Yeah!” Hinata jumps in place, snapping the suspenders over his chest. “Yachi said they’re cool. She wouldn’t let me wear a bowtie, though,” he finishes with a pout.

Kageyama screws up his face. “Did she dress you?”

“Um… maybe.” Then his face lights up, and he darts towards Kageyama’s desk chair.

“Here!” Hinata wheels the chair up hard, ramming Kageyama in the back of the legs and toppling the tall boy back onto the seat. He gives a few extra grunts, shoving Kageyama hard over the carpet towards the mirror.

Kageyama grips the armrests desperately, eyes wide.

And then Hinata’s arms are working around Kageyama’s neck, bare forearms leaned onto his shoulders and his face  so close that Kageyama can feel the tickle of wild orange hair at his cheek.

He squashes the urge to run his fingers through it, stomach fluttering and bubbly at their proximity. Instead, he watches Hinata’s face in the mirror, concentrated and beautiful.

Always so beautiful.

Those nerves spring up again with a vengeance. And so he says,

“You’re like a housewife.”

And instantly Kageyama wants to wheel himself out his bedroom window. He can _not_ believe he just fucking said that. Now he’s certain Hinata can feel the heat radiating from his face; and maybe he does, but without missing a beat, Hinata says,

“Shut up, Kage-mama.”

And that, paired with the little smile between endearingly pinked cheeks, makes the embarrassment bleed right out of him.

“Housewife Hinata,” Kageyama says with a scowl. But then he laughs; he _actually_ laughs. It’s small and quiet, but it’s the first time he’s laughed in weeks. Hinata drops his head and sighs in defeat, slipping the tie out of the collar and starting over again.

Kageyama doesn’t mind at all. “Wow, you’d make a pretty shitty wife.”

Hinata scoffs. “I’d make a better one than you!”

God, he misses him.

“Don’t yell in my ear, dumbass!”

“I would, though.” Hinata mutters quietly.

“Would not.”

“Would so.”

“I bet you can’t even cook.”

“Can so! I can cook better than you!”

“I have _never_ seen you cook.” Kageyama says with a roll of his eyes.

“There’s a lot of things you’ve never seen me do! It doesn’t mean I can’t _do them_ , stupid.”

“Well, can you?”

Brown eyes flicker up. They dart away just as fast. “Define _cook_.”

Kageyama snorts.

“We’ll have a contest, one day,” Hinata says quietly, lip catching in his teeth.

Kageyama’s heart swells.

_One day._

“Fine. What will we cook?”

“Mm… sandwiches!” Hinata says with a hungry gleam in his eye.

“That isn’t cooking.”

“Is so!”

“Is not.”

“We’ll ask the guys when we get to the car. I bet you a hundred dollars they agree with me.”

“Fine,” Kageyama says with a smirk. “Once you admit you can’t tie a tie we can finally get the fuck out of here.”

Kageyama prays that doesn’t happen soon.

Hinata grumbles wordlessly, hunching down an inch and focusing. That tongue makes another appearance.

But in that moment, Kageyama is _happy_ ; all his defenses turned to paper, doused with water and torn with ease at that first shining smile standing outside his door.

And he’s terrified.

After so long without him, Kageyama fears he’ll die if he leaves again – a bitter limbo suspended halfway between grief and joy. This reunion is so brittle he can feel it like glass beneath his feet.

But still he’s happy.

He’s _happy._

And so he says, with a grin,

“When I win, instead of the money, why not just cook me a sandwich.”

Hinata jerks at this, and Kageyama quickly wonders if he just pushed too far. His stomach flips, souring, blood chilling; but then,

“O-okay,” Hinata says softly, blinking up and then away again.

Only a few seconds of silence pass before Hinata looks back at him in the mirror, breath catching, signaling speech.

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?”

The questions hangs in the air, and it takes Kageyama a moment or two to pull it down. He frowns; something makes him curl his fingers hard into his palms. His mouth feels dry.

“Where did that come from?”

A shoulder shrugs.

“Why would I do something like that, dumbass,” Kageyama says with a confused frown.

Hinata doesn’t reply, and Kageyama can’t read his expression.

“I-it would get in the way of volleyball,” Kageyama adds, looking away.

Hinata nods.

“Um,” Kageyama wets his lips, “what about you?”

There’s a little huff of a laugh through Hinata’s nose and he gives a small smile, misery leaking out the sides. “I don’t think someone like me…” he blinks suddenly, shaking his head. His brow furrows. “It would get in the way of volleyball,” he mutters mechanically.

“Do you really expect to play volleyball for the rest of your life?” Kageyama realizes too late that he’s whispering, his heart in pieces over whatever the hell is going on with Hinata’s sad little face, and Hinata won’t meet his eye in the mirror.

But finally he does, and Kageyama freezes.

“Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” the setter says gravelly around the tightness in his throat. “Yes.”

There’s a pause… a long pause. And then,

“Well!” Hinata chirps as he straightens up, grinning so wide it’s almost blinding. “Guess I have to then, right?”

Kageyama blinks, still frozen. What the hell just happened?

Hinata steps in front of him, pointing at the perfectly constructed knot in the tie, smiling smugly. “Told you!”

Kageyama blinks down blankly, fingers flipping up the bottom of the thing.

“Stand up! Up!” Hinata shakes the arm of the chair obnoxiously, jostling the shit out of him. “I want to see if I got the length right!”

So Kageyama stands. It’s a lot shakier than he’ll ever admit.

He’s fairly sure Hinata has no idea what he just implied; nope, he’s just stepping back to admire his handy work, pleased as punch with himself.

But then his eyes wander – just a bit; just a couple inches this way and that over his chest and down, but Kageyama notices. And he _definitely_ notices the dark blush that spreads up his face, brown eyes getting wide before sliding away. Hinata rubs the back of his neck self-consciously.

“You look… nice,” he mumbles with his eyes on the floor.

Yeah… Kageyama is happy.

Kageyama mutters something that could be a _thank you_ , smoothing down the tie. It’s his turn to blush.

“Come on! They’re going to wonder what the hell we’re doing,” Hinata gripes, snatching his coat from the floor and shoving Kageyama towards the door. He closes it behind them once they are in the hall.

 _I can think of something we could be doing,_ Kageyama obviously thinks. He stops there; he isn’t sure how much self-control he has in him tonight. It’s about to snap just with Hinata’s warm little hands pressed against his back, so he better not let his mind drift.

“Go go go!” Hinata sings excitedly, bouncing down the stairs behind him. Until he stops suddenly. “Uh… h-hold on, I mean! You go! I forgot my scarf! I’ll be right back!” He sprints back up the stairs.

Kageyama watches him go, jumping at the slam of his bedroom door.

 _What a weirdo,_ Kageyama thinks with all the fondness in the world as he descends the rest of the stairs.

He just finishes tying his shoes when he hears an army of rhinos tumbling down the stairs.

“Alright!” Hinata jumps down the last few steps and jams his feet haphazardly into his sneakers. “Let’s go!”

“W-wait!” Kageyama scrambles for his jacket as Hinata claps his fingers around his wrist. “Where’s your scarf!?”

“Couldn’t find it!” Hinata says quickly, dragging Kageyama through the door.

“It was on the—“

“It’s fine! Come on!”

And then they’re running down the snowy path to the driveway, Kageyama being led by Hinata’s warm hand to the van full of their jeering teammates and an onslaught of _HAPPY BIRTHDAYs_ and noise makers trumpeting from each window. Yuu even runs around the van and he and Hinata throw handfuls of confetti on to him, cheering loudly.

And when they’re piled in the van, Hinata all pushed up against him and wiggling around, bouncing between him and Yamaguchi and shouting some nonsense conversation with Nishinoya in the driver’s seat, Kageyama doesn’t even try to hide his smile. He drops his head against the cool glass, watching the streetlights out the window as they pass.

 

And he’s happy. He’s _so happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DRAMA.
> 
> Splitting the chapter up doesn't in anyway mean that I'm delaying the *good* parts. They are coming.
> 
> And thank you to @rukiahitachiin for beta-ing! And a shout out to @fuckthewaveringwood who needs all the relaxation time in the world rn :D <333


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MAN. This chapter might be the longest so far :D AND TO THINK, this chapter was supposed to be combined with the one before this. Jesus. 
> 
> Enjoy :D

The banquet is chaos.

Kageyama can’t figure out why they (whoever _they_ are) insist on doing it the exact same way every year; with these zoo animals to whom the concept of _indoor_ _voice_ has never been explained crammed into a sweaty banquet hall for three hours, and the open bar for the coaches and advisors, there have been more than enough _incidents_ over the years to warrant a reevaluation of the evening’s format.

First of all, there are the several reports of alleged drunken… _situations_ involving the coaches or other faculty in coat rooms or cars in the parking lot (most of which Kageyama doesn’t believe, because why on earth would the stupid school still employ such ridiculous people if they had actually been caught), but there are other, slightly more believable stories; like last year a kid on the basketball team drank a floating candle centerpiece on a dare and threw up in the Christmas tree in the foyer. The year before a girl set her hair on fire and had to go to the hospital. She was fine, but she came to school with her head shaved the next day.

And sitting at their round table of thirteen _,_ jammed in next to Hinata and Tanaka, Kageyama takes note of how there are no candles on the table.

Okay, so they’re trying, at least.

But it took about ten seconds for Hinata to steal three pitchers of soda from the bar (how he got them back to the table without sloshing them all over the floor and himself Kageyama will never know) and for Yachi to dump her water all over the table and Tanaka’s lap, right before Nishinoya knocked over their centerpiece with a rogue Christmas tree ornament. To be fair, the snowmen _did_ resemble bowling pins.

Their captain righted the two white fuzzy things with a roll of his eyes; two headless sentries now standing blind witness to the lawless tides of over-amped teenagers all packed into one massive room.

Kageyama tries not to be envious.

“Who do you think will win MVP this year?” Yamaguchi asks loudly over the din, building a tower out of the little coffee creamers. Tsukishima flicks the bottom one with his finger, toppling the structure.

_Why are those even on the table. Who the fuck is serving us coffee._

“Kageyama?” Yuu offers, balancing his spoon and fork on this water glass.

“Kageyama can’t win _every_ year,” Hinata says, pouring himself his third glass of soda.

Kageyama screws up his face. “I didn’t win last year, dumbass.”

The redhead pauses mid sip. “Huh?”

“It was Asahi!” Yachi reminds with a grin. Tsukishima snorts loudly into his water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he sets it on the table.

“But… wait,” Hinata blinks from Tsukishima to Kageyama and back again, “I thought that—”

“Just because he’s so valuable to _you_ doesn’t mean he—”

“Tsukki!”

“Shut up,” Hinata mutters through the warmth rising in his scowly face. He bites his straw, sucking down half the brown liquid in his glass aggressively through teeth clenched behind his lips.

But he didn’t deny it. Kageyama cups his face casually in his hand to keep his smile hidden.

“Pretty sure I was sleeping by that point, anyway.” Hinata reaches for the soda again.

“Jesus, just drink out of the pitcher!” Kageyama snaps.

_“Ah!_ ” Hinata lights up. “Genius!”

“Nooo,” Ennoshita reaches across the table, snatching two pitchers out of Hinata’s reach. The redhead flops back into his seat and pouts, tipping his glass to his mouth to spitefully crunch on the ice. “When the hell did I turn into your babysitter?”

“Have you seen the alternatives?” Tsukishima deadpans, pointing to Nishinoya and Tanaka at the girls’ basketball table, sneaking sugar packets into unsuspecting victims’ ice waters.

Their captain just smiles.

When the lights dim, signaling the blessed start of this stupid fucking award ceremony, Noya and Tanaka scuttle back to their seats, snickering and high-fiving amidst all the _shush_ -ing.

_“Thank you all for joining us this evening for this very special event,”_ the softball coach pipes over the microphone at the podium at the front of the room. _“It’s been my pleasure every year to organize this dinner to honor the school’s most talented………………….”_

“Why do they always insist on giving the awards _before_ dinner?” Hinata laments quietly to Kageyama. “I’m _so hungry_.”

Kageyama can feel Hinata’s breath against his ear, and he suppresses a shiver. To cover he says,

_“Shhh.”_

“Sorry Kage- _mama_ ,” Hinata whispers, snickering, “I didn’t know…” he pops his head up, glancing towards the podium, and then back down again, “that forty-year-old softball ladies were your thing.”

“Maybe they are,” Kageyama mumbles, pointing his eyes towards the podium and snagging his water, taking a long drink to cool the fire kindling in his chest.

“Oh,” Hinata slowly sinks back into his chair.

Kageyama flicks his eyes to the side to see him gnawing on his lip, fidgeting hands folded on the table.

A ripple of delight runs through him.

“I’m kidding, idiot.”

Hinata blinks, shaking his head. “Oh, y-yeah!” A slow smile pushes up into his cheeks.  “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Kageyama smirks, heart swelling, and before he even gives it a second thought, he gently shoves at Hinata with his elbow, nudging him in the side.

There’s a small, sharp intake of breath and Hinata freezes.

_Shit._

Blue eyes go round and wide and he’s a breath away from stammering an apology, until,

“ _Uff—_ ”

Hinata elbows him in the stomach.

And it might just be the best thing he's ever felt.

Despite his watering eyes, the mild pain of the sharp little elbow recedes quickly into the thrill of butterflies – that well-missed flutter of comfortable anticipation; a feeling he’d taken for granted a million times before. But he swears to whatever volleyball gods can hear him that he never will again.

It’s a good thing Hinata isn’t looking at him, because Kageyama is certain the gratitude is written all over his face.

And he can see the smile twitching at Hinata’s mouth, brown eyes lowered to his lap.

Kageyama dares for a second to believe that maybe this is it – maybe Hinata is done with his soul searching or whatever and is finally ready to resume their friendship, to pick up where they left off.

Even if it means he’s over his crush… if that’s what all this avoiding was for, to  _get over_ Kageyama… he can accept it as long as it means Kageyama can be with him again. He’s just glad to be sitting next to him, to be able to enjoy his closeness and his company.

It’s all Kageyama was ever fated to have, anyway. And just being near him again is enough.

_But…_

But the way Hinata just peeked back over at Kageyama tells him that _maybe_ those feelings have stuck around.

Eventually, Hinata turns his attention to the front of the room, elbow posted on the table and fist smushing the side of his face in a display of abject boredom, despite the pink hue in his cheeks.

So Kageyama does the same, turning to watch the night of forced recognition unfold.

He zones out completely around the end of the first fifteen minutes, at the start of the blubbering of the baseball coach while recognizing the graduating seniors. He hears Nishinoya whisper something to Yachi about the coach being in love with the star pitcher, and when Kageyama lazily slides his eyes over, he and Noya make awkward eye contact for half a second before the libero smiles. Kageyama looks away quickly.

And for the remainder of the ceremony, or at least until it's their turn (the program runs alphabetically so they are exactly last with the girls’ volleyball team going before them), Kageyama stealthily watches a restless Hinata out of the corner of his eye – bouncing and wiggling in his seat like a fucking child, swiveling around every few minutes to gaze longingly at the kitchen doors.

He looks so good tonight that it's hard for Kageyama not to openly stare at him in his well-fitting clothes. In all of his daydreaming and fantasizing, he never once imagined Hinata in dressier clothing, but now he has this image to revisit for the rest of his life. Last year the banquet fell on an evening following a practice match with Dateko, so they had been exempt from the whole dressing up thing.They had all stumbled sweaty and exhausted into the banquet hall. Most of them barely made it through – Hinata had even pushed three chairs together to assemble a makeshift bed after dinner. It was… cute.

And the fact that Kageyama’s jacket had somehow managed to make its way beneath Hinata’s head as a pillow has remained unaddressed till this day.

But anyway, bless the powers that be and whoever made Hinata’s fucking pants.

He wonders absently what next year will bring - what Hinata will look like next year for this event… where they will be in terms of…

_Them._

…though it’s probably not the best idea to be thinking in those terms.

But that’s all it takes for his brain to wander off on its own for a solid hour.

Really though, in the back of his mind he knows he should be paying attention to his fellow athletes, especially when the girls’ volleyball coach takes the stage, but after so many weeks of neglect or whatever, Kageyama is getting greedy. And with the way Hinata is turned completely around in his chair and kneeling on the seat, Kageyama is a little… preoccupied.

(with his ass. Kageyama is staring at his ass).

He wants to run away with this feeling of… _relief_ , he supposes, but he knows that the night is far from over, and the possibility that something might go terribly wrong still remains – _looms_ is a more apt description; he still has to survive the dinner and the festivities afterward, so Kageyama stays guarded.  

But, shit, it’s a little hard not to feel so hopeful given what happened in his bedroom before the banquet. He can still feel the warmth of Hinata’s arms over his shoulders; and god he’s _missed_ that fucking heat so much.

He wants to tell Hinata how hard it’s been to be apart from him; to lean over and just whisper in so few words how badly he needs this to mark the end of his absence.

Three words… just three little words to maybe make Hinata understand.

_‘I miss you’._

No no, he can’t do that. _Guarded,_ right? He has to stay… guarded—

_God_ Hinata looks good.

Kageyama swallows and licks his lips, his eyes glued to Hinata’s ass. “Eye-fucking the kitchen isn’t going to make the food come out any faster, idiot,” he says.

“I am not _eye-fucking,_ ” Hinata hisses, glaring briefly at Kageyama and then looking away. “I’m using telepathy.”

“That’s not going to work, dumbass.”

“You don’t know that!”

“And anyway, even if you summon the food we have to wait—”

Kageyama is cut off by a smattering of applause. The Softball Lady makes her way back to the podium.

_“And now I would like to welcome Coach Keishin Ukai and Ittetsu Takeda for the boys’ volleyball team.”_

And as if on some parallel cue, servers emerge from the kitchen doors, bringing with them the silver pans full of steaming buffet food.

Kageyama claps quietly with the rest of the students as their coach and advisor take to the front of the room, his eyebrow raised at the smug look of _‘told you’_ written all over Hinata’s dumb face.

Hinata flops back into his seat, pleased, ready to listen to his coach speak while keeping an eye on the food as it disappears back beneath the silver chafing lids. But instead of watching their coach himself, Kageyama continues watching Hinata - he just can’t help it.

All the wiggling, all the bouncing and fidgeting, all the drooling at the pizza now beneath glowing heat lamps is the only reward (or award, whatever) he gives a shit about this evening. The copied and pasted droning of how fulfilling it has been to coach such brilliant young athletes and blah blah blah (no, really, Ukai even admitted earlier that he’d be using the same exact speech he gave last year) doesn’t come close to the honor of having Hinata beside him again, and he’s so wrapped up in the euphoria of Hinata’s presence that he startles violently when Hinata whips around to face him, grin wide and shining and excited. Kageyama blinks rapidly, fading back into a raucous applause and a whole lot of yelling going on at their table - all of which is directed at him. Kageyama’s lips part in confusion, and with wide eyes he looks back at Hinata and says,

“What?”

“Go!” Hinata beams up at him.

Kageyama blinks again. “Um. What?”

“Stupid!” Hinata jumps up, grabbing Kageyama by the wrist and tugging him to his feet. “MVP! That’s you! That’s you!”

“I-I’m—what!?” Kageyama stammers as Hinata drags him by the hand for the second time that night, through the tables and chairs towards the podium. Halfway there, Hinata gets behind the setter and just sort of shoves him; Kageyama stumbles and turns around, dumbfounded, and Hinata makes a little shooing motion with his hands before segueing into a quick, happy clap in Kageyama’s direction. A shrill, catcalling whistle (Yuu) cuts through the ovation and snaps Kageyama out of it, and he finally understands what happened.

He turns back slowly, forcing himself into a stiff walk through the rest of the tables and up onto the risers to accept the year’s MVP award for boys’ volleyball. He awkwardly shakes Ukai’s and Takeda’s hands, and is then forced to stand there uncomfortably while they talk about how far he’s come.

But when his eyes find Hinata again, still standing where he left him in the center of the room, his partner flashes him a proud smile and a thumbs-up. And Kageyama drops his eyes to the plaque, a wobbly smile working its way into his face. It has nothing to do with the award.

Finally, he’s allowed to go back to his seat. Hinata waits to walk back with him.

_“Waahh~_ so cool!” Hinata whispers excitedly while Ukai introduces Ennoshita as their captain, ripping the thing out of Kageyama’s hands when they find their seats again. “I knew it!”

“You didn’t know anything,” Kageyama replies, watching Hinata turn the plaque over in his hands amidst the hushed congratulations from the other boys at the table. “I don’t need awards,” he says, embarrassed and yet painfully appreciative. “I just want to play.”

“I’m definitely jealous,” Hinata admits quietly, reading over the engraving. But then, with the entire team sitting witness, Hinata snaps his head up, looking Kageyama dead in the eyes and says,

“I’m so proud of you.”

It takes Kageyama a moment to recover.

He doesn’t look away from those pure, honest eyes, and with his heart way up in his throat, his hand gets lost on the way to snatch the award back, and instead ruffles through red hair. It probably looks weird as hell, but Kageyama doesn’t care. Hinata’s hair is as warm and soft as ever; the weeks he’s gone without it, all the waiting and the longing flow out of him like a long-held breath with thick red strands between his fingers again.

But it’s Hinata’s reaction that makes him want to never let go.

He leans up into it – barely, but he does. Spine straightening, eyes breaking contact only to flutter gently. But it’s over in less than a second, and Kageyama lets his arm drop.

“Don’t be embarrassing, dumbass,” Kageyama says softly, his body wired with a simmering current, heat thrumming through every part of him when his hand does finally find the edge of the plaque, catching Hinata’s fingers along with it for another blissful moment of soft contact.

Hinata blinks down at their hands, and then back up to Kageyama’s face, meeting his eyes again.

As if they’re the only ones left in the world.

The wave of giggling sweeping the room barely registers with Kageyama before,

_“Hinata Shouyou.”_

Hinata visibly jolts, snatching his hand back and almost tumbling backwards out of his seat, but then he’s weaving his way through the tables again, dodging around clapping and laughter.

Confused, Kageyama looks around at his teammates, most of which who are laughing so hard they are having a hard time breathing.

“What did I just miss?” Kageyama hisses to Yachi.

“The first of the gag awards,” she replies through a storm of giggles.

Turning his attention back to the podium, Kageyama watches Hinata accept a certificate with a bright red face before immediately hopping off the small stage and booking it back to the table, shoulders raised up towards his ears.

He plops back into his seat, glaring daggers at Nishinoya and Tanaka who have literally fallen out of their chairs.

“What did you get?” Kageyama asks.

And without looking away from the upperclassmen who are gasping for air, Hinata narrows his eyes and slaps the piece of paper hard on the table in front of Kageyama.

Kageyama looks down,

 

 

 

 

and then joins in the laughter.

* * *

 

The rest of the gag awards to follow were less eventful (Kageyama won Best Manicurist… whatever that means) and to the relief of everyone, dinner service began directly after the closing remarks.

They all tore into their food like ravenous beasts, the chaotic atmosphere from earlier growing to a heightened crescendo of madness in the banquet room while they feasted, and when the trays of cookies and other desserts came out, Hinata dropped the chicken wing he had been gnawing on and sprinted towards them like a rabid animal.

“I really can’t believe—we’re starting college next year,” Tanaka declares loudly between bites when Hinata returns with a ridiculous pile of cookies stacked high on a tiny plate. “I can’t wait to play with Daichi and Asahi again.”

“Mm!” Nishinoya agrees with a full mouth. “Less than a year! Like eight months!”

“Was this really Suga’s last year playing?” Hinata asks sadly out of the corner of his mouth before swallowing.

“Mm, not really,” Tanaka says, “I guess he’s taking some time off to focus on school, but he says he’ll be back!”

“And!” Nishinoya announces, “we just found out me and Ryu are dorming together! We got the approval. Meaning—“ he pauses to swallow a mouthful of soda, “—when you guys come to watch us play, you’ll have a place to crash if the after-party gets a little too… _crazy._ ” He winks at Kageyama, elbowing him in the stomach for the second time that night.

This one doesn’t feel as great.

Kageyama glares at the libero, picking up the piece of pizza that was joggled out of his hand.

“Are you going there too?” Hinata asks their captain – ‘ _there_ ’ being the local university, which the previous third years now attend, and where most of the current team is planning to go as well.

Ennoshita shakes his head. “They don’t really have a film program,” he says, “I’m taking a semester off to work and figure out where I want to go.”

“When you’re a famous director,” Yachi says, proudly, “I’m going to brag to everyone that I know you.”

Ennoshita smiles, blushing. “It’s hard to be a director… I might stick to cinematography.”

“Whichever,” Yachi says with a wave of her spoon, “I still get to brag.”

“Have you started your college forms yet?” Nishinoya asks Yachi.

She nods and globs a spoonful of jello into her mouth before answering. “I’m applying for sports medicine.”

“No shit!” Tanaka smacks his hands on the table, rattling the silverware. “That’s my program! Why didn’t you tell me!”

“ _You_ got into the sports medicine program?” Tsukishima asks with a blank face.

Tanaka shrugs. “I’m thinking of physical therapy, eventually. Seemed like the place to start. What of it?”

“You. A physical therapist.” The blond raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You know you have to, like, _study_.”

“Just what are you implying, my dear sweet giant scrub-brush?”

“Are you calling me abrasive?”

Tanaka grins and stuffs the crust of a piece of pizza into his mouth.

“How do you even know that word?”

“I ‘ow ‘ots ‘f ‘ings—“

And Tsukishima leans back in his chair, smirking. “Well, I am agog. I can’t wait to see how this goes.”

Tanaka swallows, grabbing for his soda. “You’re hardly a god.”

“ _Agog_ , you ape.”

“Oh my god, fine,” Tanaka scoffs into his glass. “So conceited.”

“Hinata,” Ennoshita says, “that is the fattest thing I’ve ever seen.”

And Kageyama blinks over to Hinata, who is kneeling in his seat and using a cookie to shove a full piece of pizza adorned with potato chips off his plate and onto Kageyama’s.

“What the fuck, dumbass, I don’t want your leavings!”

“I can’t finish it! I don’t want to be wasteful!”

“Why the hell did you put chips on it?”

“Because I’m a genius.”

“Where did you even _get_ those?”

“Vending machine?”

“When did you—I’m not eating your scraps!”

“What about you guys?” Noya asks Hinata and Kageyama. “Did you start your college stuff yet?”

Kageyama nods and Hinata hums the affirmative, plopping his butt back into his seat.

“It didn’t really seem real until prelims,” Hinata says with a sigh. “All those scouts… it was weird to think they were, like, preying on us—“

“They weren’t _preying_ on us,” Kageyama interrupts with a roll of his eyes.

“I sure felt like prey.” Hinata sniffs.

“Of course you did,” Yachi pipes, “they surrounded the two of you like vultures. I was scared for you!”

“They could have at least waited until we were done celebrating,” Hinata says with a pout. “But did you see how they flocked around Kageyama? He was like a celebrity!”

“I saw that one lady talking to you, Hinata,” Yuu says excitedly. “She looked really fancy... and she was pretty,” he finishes with a blush.

Hinata shrugs a shoulder. “She was cool, I guess.”

“Cool!? You guys talked for like twenty minutes!”

“I know! And I really had to pee.”

“What school was she from,” Nishinoya asks.

Hinata just shrugs again. “I don’t even remember. She was foreign and had this super thick accent so who knows what she was even saying half the time.” Suddenly he jumps to his feet, slamming his hands on the table with a declaration of: “I’m getting more pizza!”

“You just dumped your last piece on my plate, dumbass!” Kageyama yells as Hinata scampers off.

But he turns back to the table and sighs. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling until Nishinoya says,

“You look happy.”

“It’s an… okay night,” Kageyama mumbles, flicking a stray potato chip off his plate.

“It’s weird,” Nishinoya says, gaze following Hinata, “you think he’d be more excited about getting scouted.”

Kageyama shrugs. “Guess he had to pee pretty bad. Plus if he already knows where he’s going it probably doesn’t matter much.”

“’kay, so what about you,” Nishinoya continues, “are you…” his eyes shift past Kageyama towards the buffet, “still thinking about staying here?”

Kageyama raises his eyes and nods.

“Kageyama!” Yamaguchi cries. “But you must have gotten like five offers from other schools already! you could go anywhere!”

Kageyama thinks about this a moment and then agrees, nodding slowly. “I know,” he says, watching Hinata struggle to carry back two pieces of cake on top of his pizza.

“Don’t you want to play for the best school?” Yuu asks.

And Kageyama’s head snaps around, his brows furrowed. “As long as we’re all on the same team again, I will play for the best school.”

It takes a second for Kageyama to realize that everyone has stopped eating to look at him, their expressions shocked. Tsukishima even drops his fork and it clatters loudly to his plate.

Kageyama blinks. “What?”

“Aw, did I miss something?” Hinata whines, sliding back into his seat.

“His majesty is being embarrassing.”

“That was beautiful. I’m… I’m actually tearing up,” Tanaka says, draping himself dramatically over Nishinoya’s shoulders.

“I’m so touched,” Yamaguchi says, placing a hand over his heart. “I didn’t know that’s how you felt about us.”

Kageyama just frowns, confused, and watches Hinata flop a piece of chocolate cake upside down atop the leftover pizza on the setter’s plate.

“I got you one, too,” Hinata says with a wide smile, thrusting a fork at Kageyama’s face. “Think of it as your birthday cake.”

Kageyama scowls at the fork warily. “As long as you promise not to sing at me.”

Hinata’s face scrunches into a pout.

“…tonight,” Kageyama adds with an awkward clear of his throat.

Hinata perks back up, eyes shining.

“Promise,” he says.

Allowing himself another unhampered smile, Kageyama watches Hinata shovel two bites of cake into his mouth before he digs in himself.

He’s sure the cake is good, or at least, tastes something like cake, but with the flavor of pure, swelling happiness working deep inside him, syrupy and thick as it glides through his chest, its sweetness overshadows any sensation on his tongue.

He looks at Hinata again, _really_ looks at him – openly and unashamedly, setting down his fork in favor of leaning his cheek on his fist just to stare. Let the team see him; they know how he feels about him, anyway.

And if Hinata saw the way Kageyama was watching him now, there’d be no question in his mind, either – Hinata is stupid, but he isn’t _that_ stupid.

But Hinata doesn’t look at him, not in that moment. And to Kageyama, that’s perfectly fine; the night is still young, and he still has time to be caught just… looking.

* * *

 

It’s loud.

But the clanging jingle of victory bells and whining, campy music looping and swelling through the glimmering incandescence of the busy arcade, slashed and cut with the shrieking of children and the boisterous laughter of teenagers the night before a highly-anticipated winter break is absolutely no match for the shrill, penetrating screech of:

“ _KAGEYAMAAA!”_

Hinata jams his foot on the gas and cuts the steering wheel, flying around the busy street corner and past Kageyama’s car on the screen of the racing simulator, zooming into first place.

The familiar thrill of competition strums a sweet, lyrical symphony beneath Hinata’s skin; its burgeoning melody humming in silvery harmony with Kageyama’s abrupt shift in… shit, he doesn’t know, his _mood_ or something – his entire demeanor just seems different tonight than it has the last several weeks.

Hinata felt it the moment Kageyama threw open his bedroom door. Kageyama just looked so…

_Happy._

He wasn’t planning to let the evening unravel like this. And he certainly didn’t expect to let Kageyama touch him. But, shit. Whatever it was that turned Kageyama’s temperament, Hinata was glad for it. He deserves happiness on his birthday – even if that happiness was found in Hinata’s absence.

And, _fuck,_ how he missed him. The second he met Kageyama’s eyes tonight, his vow to himself crumbled into dust. It just isn’t worth it to be so on guard tonight when Kageyama is clearly having so much fun.

So… just one night – he’s allowing himself _one_ night to just enjoy what’s been lost to him. To be the recipient of that half smile and soft eyes… to have those hands on him again.

And you know what? Hinata _deserves_ a reward for all his hard work… even if rewarding himself with the thing he’s been laboring to rid himself of might be just a little counterintuitive. Well, no one’s ever accused him of being smart so it’s not _that_ unreasonable. But just because it’s Kageyama’s birthday, doesn’t mean _he_ can’t give himself a gift, right?

_Right._

And he’s even allowed himself to cry already, so that’s out of the way; just once though, before the inevitable flood after he’s alone in his bed tonight. One single tear shed for his partner while he accepted the MVP award – god, he looked so… _happy!_ That’s really the only way Hinata can describe him tonight. Well, he also looks handsome and sexy and all those other things, but seeing him smile like that up on stage… it almost felt good to let the tear slip free.

But, dammit, Kageyama’s happiness is infectious, and ever since Hinata stepped close to him that evening, throwing that stupid tie up and around his neck, his heart hasn’t stopped hammering.

So fuck it. Tonight, he’s going to be reckless.

Really, what’s the worst that can happen?

“Fuck,” Kageyama grunts, spinning out in a median before righting himself, chasing after Hinata as they both near the finish line.

But with a whooping cheer, Hinata crosses first, throwing his hands in the air before turning towards Kageyama, grin as wide and smug as can be.

“Five to five,” he goads, jumping up and out of his seat and sticking his finger in the setter’s face. “And I get to pick the next thing!”

Smacking Hinata’s hand out of the air, Kageyama gets to his feet himself and then palms Hinata’s gloating face, shoving him back down into the plastic car seat.

“Fine,” the setter grumbles, looking around at the wide array of games that have yet to fall prey to their… _them_ -ness. “It better not suck.”

But Hinata can see the faint hint of a smile tug at his pretty lips, and so he says,

“ _You_ better not suck.” He grins, sliding out of the seat again. “I need a challenge.”

“I never suck.”

“So you say _,_ ” Tanaka’s voice rings from behind them, right before he throws an arm over Kageyama’s shoulders. “I don’t believe it.”

“ _Wahh_ so many tickets!” Hinata points excitedly at the wad clutched in Tanaka’s other fist. “Where did you get all those!? Kageyamaaa,” he whines, “why don’t we have any tickets?”

“We’re not playing the right games, dumbass.”

“Well stop picking shitty ones!”

“You’re picking shitty ones!”

“Who picks the _race car game_ at the arcade!?”

“Shut up! At least it was better than that trivia thing you made us play!”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t get any right!”

“You didn’t get any right either, idiot!”

“Aw,” Tanaka interrupts with a smile, stepping away from Kageyama, “you guys are the worst. These,” he shakes the tickets in Kageyama’s face, despite Hinata being the one who asked, “came from Skee-ball.”

Hinata pulls in a little gasp the same moment Kageyama goes rigid, fists clenching up at his sides; their heads whip around, pinning each other with the same wide-eyed look.

And then they’re off – galloping and weaving through the arcade in pursuit of their next victory.

* * *

 

“Yes!” Kageyama yells over the cheer of the small audience that has gathered to watch the battle, pumping his fist in the air.

“No!” Hinata answers, clutching his head in defeat. But then he balls his fists, bouncing from foot to foot. “Again!”

“I’m already three ahead of you,” Kageyama says with a smirk, wiping sweat from his forehead and sliding down the knot in his tie, “what makes you think you can beat me?”

“Because I—ah! _Uwah!_ I’m out of tokens!” Hinata cries, padding at his pockets frantically; his suspenders flop at his knees, having been shoved off his shoulders in in the literal heat of their game – he rolled his pants up, too, his tie loosened around his neck. It’s… sort of the cutest thing Kageyama has ever seen.

“We got you guys!” Yamaguchi runs up, slipping a token in each of their machines.

Their twin piles of tickets lie long forgotten on the floor as the bells and trumpets signal the continuation of the action; the combatants take position, poised to snatch the balls the second they are released.

A wide smile spreads across Kageyama’s face at the little tongue sticking past Hinata’s lips, the bouncing bend to his knees as Kageyama watches him out of the corner of his eye. This _must_ be happiness – this tingling energy flowing through him, warm and vibrant. It’s so fucking… _colorful._

At last he feels that apprehension float up and out of him, released into obscurity; maybe he’s a little bit too hasty in his relief, but he feels _good_. Giddy.

This is fucking _fun._

The smooth plastic balls don’t even clack into place before they are wrested from their trough; double-fisting their ammo, the boys whip the balls up the ramp to the cheers of their team members and other random patrons who wanted in on the entertainment.

And ‘entertainment’ it certainly is: the yelling and screaming alone is cause enough to observe, and with Hinata dancing around and making a scene for every batch of points he scores, it’s a goddamn dog and pony show (Kageyama isn’t entirely sure what that means, but he’s certain it applies); and since they have Yamaguchi feeding the machines, the gameplay is almost seamless.

And one after the other, game after game, Hinata eventually catches up.

And _boy_ does he let Kageyama know about it.

“Kageyama!” He shouts, jumping up onto the ramp of his machine the moment his last ball falls into the _100_ hole, bringing him out ahead. Chest heaving, he points his finger in Kageyama’s face again like a little shit. Kageyama wants to bite it. “Don’t think that just because it’s your birthday I’m going easy on you!”

And breathing heavily himself, the setter narrows his eyes, a smile twitching at his mouth. “One more.”

“One more,” Hinata agrees.

“Winner takes all. The whole night.”

“The whole night,” Hinata repeats. And then the single finger jammed in Kageyama’s face is joined by the others – Hinata extends his hand. Kageyama takes it, pulling it down out of the air and giving it a firm shake.

Their gazes lock; Kageyama feels alive – fucking _riled._  Like a shot of adrenaline to the heart, he can _feel_ his eyes gleam, blood surging hot and dangerously through him. And so his grip tightens; he pulls hard, yanking Hinata toward him, pulling both their hands back behind his own body. Hinata yelps when he pitches forward, and standing on the machine he stills inches from Kageyama’s face, eyes hilariously huge.

There’s an audible gasp from the crowd.

And Kageyama says, low and rumbling,

“I won’t take it easy on you either.”

And then a flicker of something ghosts over Hinata’s shocked little face – could be nothing but surprise, could be something like fear or maybe unease.

Yeah… it’s neither of those.

Kageyama smiles.

“Ya-Yamaguchi?” Hinata stammers, laughing awkwardly when he detaches from Kageyama and hops down, face all pink. But he recovers well, grinning – albeit it a little strained – at their teammate, the wielder of tokens. “Would you do the honors?” Brown eyes flick back to Kageyama, then quickly away.

“My money’s on Hinata!” Yuu calls.

“Of course it is!” Kageyama snaps, shoving up his sleeves.

“Kageyama’s got it!” Nishinoya yells.

“Hinata won the last three!” Yachi cheers. “He’s on a hot streak!”

And to the sound of the spectators taking their bets, Yamaguchi drops in the final tokens.

The race is on.

With a cry of victory, Hinata immediately sinks two balls into the top ring, earning him a quick one-hundred points; but his showboating is cut painfully short when Kageyama hits the little _100_ ring on the side.

And then he does it again.

Hinata gasps, launching himself towards the hopper.

Hinata’s next throw is way off balance, too panicked, and the ball ricochets off the end of the ramp, smashing against the inside of the machine before dropping uselessly into the gutter. He drops to his knees dramatically, throwing his hands over his face.

“Giving up?” Kageyama goads.

“Regrouping!” Hinata whines into his palms.

Kageyama laughs, slinging the ball up the ramp and hitting the _20._ He scowls.

“HA!” Hinata jumps up, getting into position again and immediately racking up another one-hundred points with a single throw.

Kageyama hunches down, setting his jaw. He’s going to win this; so when he gets nothing more than thirty points with his next two throws combined, he becomes just a little desperate.

And once Hinata is finished mocking him and has cocked back his arm in preparation to throw, Kageyama winds up as well.

And Kicks Hinata in the ass.

“Hey!” Hinata crows, canting forward before rounding on Kageyama. “Don’t jostle me!”

“I don’t recall us setting any rules.”

“You can’t just assault your opponent!” Hinata is bright red again, and the hoots and whistles from behind them isn’t helping matters. “It’s unspoken!”

Kageyama just turns, laughing into his hand and throwing with the other, missing all points entirely.

It’s fine.

The game continues without further offense, and miraculously, the scores even out and the boys find themselves in another tie; except—

“Wait!” Hinata shrieks, falling to his knees and shoving his face down by the hopper. “What!? I’m… I’m out of balls!” His head whips up, eyes wild and flashing when they land on Kageyama with a ball in each hand. “Why do you still have some!?”

“Because I didn’t throw them all, dumbass!”

“But I didn’t, either!”

“Clearly you did!”

“I was counting! I… I made sure we were even and—“

“Oh you were _not_ counting!” Kageyama says defensively.

“Well then how come my game isn’t over yet, huh!?” Hinata hops up, pointing at the solid LEDs exhibiting his score and indicating that the game is, indeed, still in progress. “It still thinks I have more to throw!”

“Maybe you broke the machine with how bad you suck.”

“We’re _tied_ , you ass! If I suck then you suck just as bad!”

“We won’t be once I finish—“

“You stole them!” Hinata cries, jumping back up onto the ramp in his accusation.

“What!? How the hell could I have—“

“Give them back!”

“What—no! They’re mine!”

“Give them back to me, Kageyama!” Hinata steps over the partition and onto the setter’s machine.

“Get out of the way, idiot!”

“Not until you give them back, you thief!”

“I didn’t take your stupid balls,” Kageyama growls, his hands tightening around the plastic.

Hinata glares hard; it’s adorable how threatening he thinks he’s being. But then he huffs out,

“Okay. Fine. You win.” His shoulders and head drop as he shoves his hands into his pockets. He shuffles off the end of the ramp.

Kageyama watches him fold his arms in agitated defeat, looking off to the side with a pout.

But Kageyama’s lips just quirk up into a victorious smile when he directs his attention back to winning the evening. “That’s what I thought—“

But he can’t finish his sentence – he can’t do much of anything in that moment except stagger forward because a fucking planet crashes into him from behind and the jaws of life itself clamp hard around his waist and neck with a shriek of,

“ _KAGEYAMAAAAA!”_

“What—what the FUCK, you dumbass!?” Kageyama shouts, spinning around in mild terror and unable to even attempt to pry the spider monkey off him for the two balls clutched in his hands.

“GIVE THEM BACK!” Hinata screeches, literally climbing Kageyama and stretching his arms down to grab towards Kageyama’s hands.

“THEY AREN’T YOURS YOU—“

“GIVE IT GIVE IT!”

“ARE YOU INSANE!? FU—YOU’RE—STOP IT!” Kageyama roars, staggering around and struggling to keep his balance. “SHI— _GAH!”_

_“WAHH!”_

They both scream when Kageyama finally topples over; they crash down sideways, hard against the Skee ball machines – the racket clattering loud and high above the gasps of their teammates in a tangle of limbs and angry cursing.

Until they both still, save for their heavy breathing, lying mostly on their backs with Hinata’s legs pinned beneath Kageyama.

“What—the fuck,” Kageyama pants, “is wrong with you?”

But Hinata just laughs, and he laughs hard. And soon, Kageyama is laughing as well.

“Get off of me,” Hinata giggles, shoving hard at Kageyama’s shoulders. “You weigh like a million pounds.”

“I thought the ceiling was falling on me so shut your fat face,” Kageyama tells him, not budging an inch. He deadens himself, lying as heavy as possible on Hinata’s legs as the little redhead squirms beneath him.

After only minimal thrashing, Hinata does manage to break free, and immediately snatches at one of Kageyama’s hands, thieving a ball while he’s caught off guard.

“Hey!” Kageyama snaps, shooting into a sitting position. “What the hell—what are you doing!?”

But Hinata says nothing as he dashes up the ramp of his machine, slipping beneath the net and stuffing his ball into the top ring.

“You… cheater!” Kageyama gasps, eyes wide with disbelief.

Hinata cackles to himself and makes his way back to Kageyama at the edge of the ramp. He extends his hand once again.

“May I?” He asks with smile.

Blue eyes narrow at the little hand, flicking up to Hinata’s brown ones and back again. “Fine,” Kageyama grumbles, slapping the heavy ball into Hinata’s palm. “I never knew you were such a...” Kageyama trails off when Hinata steps carefully up the ramp of Kageyama’s own machine. “What are you doing?”

Hinata doesn’t reply, but he lets the ball roll off his fingers and into the ring that ends the evening in a tie.

“Dumbass,” Kageyama says with a scowl, “what did you do that for?

And turning back to Kageyama, Hinata bites his lip and smiles, and then says,

“Happy Birthday, Tobio.”

And Kageyama melts, despite how fucking dumb that was. “Stupid,” he says, looking away with warmth rising in his cheeks, “why the hell would you want us to tie? Get off there before we get kicked out.”

There’s applause, or something like it. And Kageyama sets a scowl deep into his blushing face when he finally gets to his feet. “Stupid,” he mumbles again, grabbing at Hinata’s hair when he hops down to the floor.

With the show apparently over (and both their Skee ball games still technically in progress… someone should… fix that) the crowd disperses. Tsukishima actually claps Kageyama hard on the shoulder before stalking away.

“So!” Hinata squeals, gathering his huge pile of tickets into his arms. “What should we get with these!?”

Kageyama watches the tickets pop out of Hinata’s arms like spring-loaded snakes and he muffles a laugh with the back of his hand. “I don’t care, idiot.”

“There must be like… five thousand here!”

“You’re so dumb,” Kageyama replies while Hinata gets the tickets under control, strips of them hanging off his body like papery tentacles.

The world’s cutest octopus.  

Hinata sniffs. “Well there’s at least _one_ thousand,” he mumbles.

“You know half of those are mine, right?” Kageyama points out.

“Yeah, obviously,” Hinata’s lips turn down into a little pout, “I wasn’t going to steal them.”

“I’m kidding, dumbass,” the setter replies to that frowny face, “you can have them.”

Hinata scoffs loudly. “I’m not taking yours! Come on,” he says, pushing past Kageyama, tickets fluttering behind him, “we’re going to find something good.”

“I’m serious,” Kageyama tells him, brow furrowed and following behind. “I don’t need some garbage toy.”

“It’s not about the  _toy_ ,” Hinata lectures over his shoulder, “it’s about the victory.”

“There’s nothing victorious about a plastic paratrooper.”

Hinata gasps, whirling around. “Do you think they have those!?”

They find their way to the prize station and Hinata opens his arms, unloading their spoils all over the glass counter while a very bleary-eyed worker approaches.

“Kageyama!” Hinata cries, pointing wildly at the glass, “they have them! Look!”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest.

“How many tickets do we have!?” Hinata squeals.

“Yes, how many tickets does my child have?”

Hinata wrinkles his nose, looking over his shoulder. “Ew, Kageyama.”

“Ew what?”

The worker is less than fazed by their antics when he scoops the tickets off the glass and into a bin, which he throws onto a little metal scale.

“One-thousand… ish,” he tells them, stonefaced.

“Kageyamaaa, we can get like… ten parachute guys!”

“I don’t want a parachute guy! They always get all tangled up and the chute breaks.”

“That’s why we need ten of them!”

“You get ten of them! Leave me out of it.”

“Fine then,” Hinata grumbles, crouching down to view the other trinkets through the front of the glass case, “what about an airplane?”

“I don’t need—“

“ _Wah!”_ Hinata squawks, literally pressing his face against the glass and pointing so hard at it that Kageyama fears it might break.

He’s a second away from yelling at him when he’s violently yanked down by the front of his shirt, knees hitting the floor hard and face coming an inch away from smashing into the case.

“What the fu—“

“Volleyball keychains!”

“Wait, what?” Kageyama presses his hands against the glass, leaning in to where Hinata is pointing. “That’s… kind of… random.”

“Well, no, look, they have baseballs and basketballs and… whatever that thing is, too. You have to get one!”

Kageyama licks his lips, examining the cheap white plastic with a metal ring attached. “Are you going to get one?”

“Obviously!”

“Should we… get some for the other guys—“

“No,” Hinata says shortly. “These are our keychains,” he says, hopping to his feet and waving over the guy. “Two of those, please!”

_Our keychains._

Kageyama is happy.

“What else do you want?” Hinata asks.

_So many things._ “I told you, nothing.”

“Annnd… two parachute guys…”

Kageyama exhales a laugh, rising to his feet and watching Hinata ho and hum over the glass case.

How much more can a person love someone? Kageyama really needs to know.

“You have like six-hundred left,” the guy says.

Hinata mulls this over for a moment, chewing his lip. “Okay,” he says with a smile, “give them back then.”

Kageyama looks at him, curling his lip. “You want them back?”

“Mhm,” Hinata hums, jamming their prizes into his pocket and retrieving the tickets.

“Why?”

Hinata ignores him and turns, scanning the arcade; he stands up on his tiptoes like a big dork to get a better view of the floor, for some reason, eyes darting around to the few remaining patrons at the late hour. Then he makes a little humming noise, eyes widening.

“Look,” he says, pointing with his full hand.

Kageyama does. “At what,” he asks.

“At that kid with the horrible parents who kept him out this late. What is he, like, six? And they’re ignoring him while they play that dumb zombie game.”

Kageyama frowns. “I don’t—“

“He looks so sleepy! Poor thing. Here,” Hinata says, thrusting the tickets at Kageyama. “Go give these to him.”

Kageyama balks, taking a sharp step backwards like the tickets will bite him. “What!? No!”

“Yes!” Hinata insists. “Think how happy it would make him!”

“You do it then!”

“I want you to do it!”

“Why!?”

“Just… because!” Hinata presses the tickets against Kageyama’s chest.

“I don’t…” Kageyama swallows, “I-I don’t know how to talk to kids!”

“Yes you do,” Hinata says, both hands now pushing the tickets against Kageyama’s chest. “You’ve talked to Natsu.”

“That’s different!” Kageyama’s heart starts to beat a little faster… okay, a _lot_ faster.

“It is not, you big baby.”

“Stop it—“

“Just go up and hand them to him!” Hinata says. “You’ll make his night! Think of how it would feel to be all bored and tired and then this super cool guy comes walking up and—“

“Okay, fine!” Kageyama snaps, snatching the tickets. His face is so, _so_ hot. _Super cool guy._ “If he cries I’m never going to forgive you.”

“Well stop scowling like that and he won’t!”

Kageyama turns on his heel and stalks towards the kid. But then he realizes that kids probably  aren't partial to _stalking_ and dials it back.

_Hinata, dumbass, I hate you so much._

“Um…” he says quietly and with the utmost confidence when he approaches the boy. He shuffles forward and looks down at him. The kid’s tired eyes widen, head tilting back to look Kageyama in the face.

_Don’t loom… don’t loom_. “Uh…” he says, looking off to the side and extending his hand, “here… t-these are for you.”

When the kid doesn’t reply, Kageyama looks back. And… having spent so much time with Hinata, Kageyama can easily recognize the shine he sees in those big round eyes.

The kid doesn’t say anything, but he takes the bouquet of tickets slowly, glancing down at them in his tiny hands before raising his eyes to Kageyama again in awe.

And he feels a swelling of accomplishment rising in his chest. “You’re welcome,” Kageyama mutters quickly and then gets the fuck out of there before the parents notice anything.

“I hate you,” Kageyama grumbles as he approaches that shit eating grin.

“No you don’t,” Hinata says.

“Sometimes I do,” Kageyama lies, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Well, you don’t right now,” Hinata retorts presenting Kageyama with his keychain. “Here, you earned this.”

Kageyama just narrows his eyes and snatches the thing out of the air. But he can’t help but smile down at it in his hand. He laughs. “This is going to break, like, tomorrow.”

Hinata shrugs. “Yeah, probably.”

“I um…” Kageyama clears his throat, shifting his weight, “I want the other parachute guy.”

It’s Hinata’s turn to laugh. “Stupid,” he says, pulling the the dumb little toy out of his pocket and dropping it into Kageyama’s hand.

Nah, he’s not stupid, because looking down at the two prizes in his hand and back at Hinata’s blushed, smiling little face, he’s happy. He’s so, _so_ happy.

But, yeah, he’s pretty stupid, too.

And maybe… all this happiness is nothing but a reflection of that.

But he hopes so hard that he’s wrong.

* * *

 

Kageyama lets the door to his bedroom click shut quietly. The wobbly smile that followed him the whole night passed through his doorway before finally fading somewhat, now that the night is over, into something more… no, _solemn_ isn’t the word. Nor is _sad._

Softly… bittersweet, maybe.

Kageyama sighs and leans back against the door. Then he kicks himself for being such an embarrassing lovesick cliché.

It’s late; _so_ late, that when Hinata led the team in a distressing rendition of “Happy Birthday” in the parking lot of the arcade, he had kept his promise to not sing to him _that night_.

The team had all pitched in and bought him a brand-new duffle bag, which Yamaguchi presented to him when they piled back into Nishinoya’s mom’s van, and a huge case of milk boxes that he had no hope of fitting into his family’s fridge; he left them on the snowy porch to keep them cold and snagged two to drink tomorrow morning.

He tosses the duffle bag onto his bed along with his tie and the MVP award and clicks on his desk lamp, immediately rolling his eyes at the lump of the bright yellow scarf in the middle of his floor; but he lets a small smile curl back up onto his lips when he bends down to pick it up.

It’s soft against his palm, the fabric a little frayed and unraveling at the edges where he runs it under his fingertips. His smile wavers as the fresh memories of the night gently pass over him, replaying and unfolding, woven like so many threads amidst misinterpretation and optimism – a patchwork of stupidity.

He's not dumb enough to think that this is how things will be from now on. He knows that this was meant to be a special night.

But still, he's dumb enough to let himself hope.

He sighs, folding the scarf neatly and carrying it over to place on his desk. He runs his fingers over the soft fabric once more before he turns. And then he freezes.

There’s a quiet rush of adrenaline that flips his stomach, a mild, shivering buzz in his ears when his eyes catch the folded piece of paper lying on his pillow.

That wasn’t there before he left.

Kageyama approaches cautiously, brows furrowed in tense unease. Upon closer inspection, the paper is jagged on one edge, torn from a notebook or sketchbook or something.

His jaw clenches, hand reaching and heart pounding.

He picks it up, trembling fingers closed along the folded edge to forestall the inevitable.

But then he snorts out an angry breath and steels himself. He opens it.

And a short, breathy laugh falls out of him before he catches it with his palm, slapping his hand over his mouth.

 

There’s a heart. The dumbass literally drew a heart.

And despite the drawing being the dorkiest thing he’s ever seen in his life, the swelling in Kageyama’s chest suggests something slightly different; the feeling dives deep, leaching into his bones all velvety and rich and warm. Hinata drew this for him. Even with all the ignoring, the coldness, Hinata _drew this for him._

He wants to feel this forever.

Kageyama blinks, wiping away a tear - he isn’t sure when he started crying. But then he frowns, confused.

_Picture?_

Watery eyes shift back to the pillow. Sniffing quietly, Kageyama carefully lifts the small square of photo paper he hadn't noticed before.

He wipes at his eyes again to better see the photo in the dim room – it’s a night scene and sort of a candid selfie taken by Suga, with the former third-year smiling wide in the bottom left and the rest of the team in frame behind him. Tanaka and Nishinoya are the only two seemingly aware of the photo, with the libero hopped up onto Tanaka’s back and their hammy smiles and peace signs aimed directly at the camera. His eyes pass over his other teammates until he spots himself and Hinata in the background and off to the side.

And suddenly it’s the only image in the photo that matters.

Kageyama’s eyes widen. He remembers this night.

He remembers it well.

The photo shows an evening in early fall, following a late practice in the beginning of their first year. Daichi had bought them all treats for a job well done, and Hinata still has his popsicle clutched in his hand, walking his bike beside him with the other. And on the other side of him is Kageyama. Like Tanaka and Noya, they both are smiling, but not at the camera – though not at each other, either. Well, Hinata isn’t, anyway.

But Kageyama is – there’s a small, fond smile tugging up a corner of his mouth as he looks down at the other boy, but Hinata’s gaze is dropped to the street, eyes pointed a little off to the side and away from the setter.  

And even in the dark, the faint blush in Hinata’s cheeks is unmistakable.

He stares, choking on his heart.

The dumbass has no idea what this photo even shows, does he.

Kageyama startles at the _ding_ of his cellphone; he sniffs, quickly rubbing at his eyes once with his wrist before fishing his phone from his pocket.

_Shouyou: i’m guessing you found your present by now!??? happy birthday!!!_

Kageyama smiles, big and watery. His heart is so full he fears it might burst.

He’d die happy.

He walks to his desk and places the drawing and the photo beside the yellow scarf, running his hand over it once more before returning his attention to his phone. He types out: _Can I keep the scarf too?_

And then deletes it.

He looks back at the photo… and then the drawing. He types again.

**Tobio: thank you**

He pauses then, for a few moments, before typing: _I miss you so much._

But he deletes it.

But he types is again, not even bothering to wipe away the tears anymore.

But again, he deletes it.

He sees Hinata typing again, three little dots warbling and blipping on his screen.

_Shouyou: I can see you typing you know. If you’re going to make fun of me then come on I can take it!! bring it!!! (งಠ_ಠ)ง_

Kageyama laughs quietly.

 

**Tobio: I’m not going to make fun of you dumbass**

 

_Shouyou: I’m um_

_Shouyou: I’m sorry it’s not much_

 

Kageyama types: _It’s too much, you idiot._

He deletes it.

He tries again: _I love it_

He deletes that too. He types: _thank you_ once more. But... deleted.

So stupid.

He swallows. _Call me_ he almost sends. But he doesn’t.

 

_Shouyou: well I hope your birthday is good tomorrow :)_

_Shouyou: I mean today_

_Shouyou: it’s today_

_Shouyou: today is today_

 

Kageyama blinks rapidly, his finger hovering over the _Call Contact_ icon.

But he grits his teeth, typing: _practice with me tomorrow_ instead.

He hits send before he loses his nerve.

A minute passes, then two. And despite the anticipatory thrashing of his heart, he throws his phone on his bed to change into his pajamas.

When he comes back he can see the little blippy thing of Hinata typing. He grips the phone tightly, waiting.

 

_Shouyou: what time?_

 

Kageyama tries to quell the happiness surging through him; Hinata didn’t exactly agree yet.

 

**Tobio: noon. meet me here and we’ll go to the park**

**Tobio: dress warm**

 

He licks his lips, waiting.

 

_Shouyou: ok mom XD_

 

Kageyama suppresses the urge to hug the fuck out of his phone. But he does sit down on his bed, grinning.

His phone dings again.

 

_Shouyou: are you sure that’s what you want to do on your birthday?_

 

Kageyama flops back onto his mattress, holding his phone above his face and tapping out: _I couldn’t think of a better way._

He hits send without a second thought.

But, again, a minute passes and then two. Then three. So he says,

 

**Tobio: goodnight dumbass. See you tomorrow**

**Tobio: thank you**

**Tobio: again**

**Tobio: for everything**

 

After a few more minutes, he lets his eyes slip closed, the bright, campy music of the arcade still ringing so softly in his ears when his phone falls from his fingers, contentment simmering just beneath his skin when he drifts off to sleep.

Hinata never does reply.

* * *

 

Hinata places his phone facedown on his nightstand as the last of Kageyama’s messages come through.

He wants to respond, but he can’t. He isn’t even sure what those last few messages say for the tears spilling down the sides of his face and onto his pillow as he stares up at the dark, blurry ceiling.

He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, a sharp sob escaping his lips.

 

He fucked up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sobs* I'm sorry. And making Skee Ball exciting is really hard, okay!? And omg is Skee Ball an international thing!? I never even considered that it might be a weird north american thing and that my international readers might be like wtf is that so uhhhh.... [it's this thing!?](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwiljLD25d7VAhWBx4MKHXTiAb0QjRwIBw&url=http%3A%2F%2Farcadeheroes.com%2F2016%2F02%2F23%2Fbaytek-games-acquires-skee-ball-amusement-games%2F&psig=AFQjCNEzCsO0pyqfBkbPxj_tLwWaf6RoKA&ust=1503077415970334) Dammit why didn't I think of that earlier :( I should have just had them play DDR *sobs*
> 
> I really hope the images worked!? If they look insane then I'm probably scrambling to fix them :(
> 
> BUT I NEED TO RECOGNIZE AND THANK MY DEAREST DARLING FRIEND [@nekolyssi](https://nekolyssi.tumblr.com/) who drew the Tobio Milk Box. OBVIOUSLY it's not a proper representation of her AMAZING ARTISTIC TALENTS, but it IS a representation of me crying to her about this idea I had to draw it myself because it would probably be similar to Hinata's skill-level but I COULDN'T EVEN DO THAT and her going "oh you mean something like THIS LOL" and I was all "HOLY SHIT YES IT'S PERFECT" and she was like "WAIT NO" but it was too late because I'm overly excited about everything she does and had to use it (she agreed so really it's fine <3 XD) [so yeah you should go check out her art on tumblr :D She's blessed me so completely with so many arts for this fic so I'm sure you've seen some of it already!](https://nekolyssi.tumblr.com/) It was also her idea to have Hinata win the Most Balls to the Face Award. I legit laughed so hard at that so I couldn't NOT use it - as usual a thing that came from her brain was PERFECT. Thank you lyssi!! I love you so much!!! :DDDD
> 
> I would also like to thank my life mate Derek for writing in Hinata's messy boy handwriting <33 I couldn't pull it off *sobs* ([his tumblr](https://descendedangel-13.tumblr.com/))
> 
> AND I totally borrowed the volleyball club image on Hinata's award from [kagegfx over on redbubble!](https://www.redbubble.com/people/kagegfx/works/19893453-karasuno-high-volleyball-club-logo?grid_pos=9&p=t-shirt&rbs=c6246b97-e7a9-4100-94d6-21c496592841&ref=shop_grid)
> 
> I need to thank my beautiful betas @fuckthewaveringwood and @rukiahitachiin for reading through this LONG-ASS THING; you guys are wonderful, as always, and I appreciate you to death!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to @ksotastic over on tumblr!! I hope you like the chapter!!

The next morning, Hinata wakes early to prepare his bike for the winter months; he swaps his standard mountain bike wheels for some sturdy snow tires, and then he screws the long metal fenders to the frame to keep the slush and salt and general winter grossness from kicking up all over his clothes as he speeds through the streets.

And despite having done this every winter since he was, like, eight, it takes him almost twice as long – mostly because his hands are shaking so badly in anticipation of his afternoon with Kageyama, but also… he really has a hard time getting the night before out of his head.

He catches himself lost in thought more times than he’ll ever admit, with a screwdriver in his hand and a floaty swell of emotion in his chest as the events from last night play over and over again in his mind.

He wonders what Kageyama looked like when he spotted the drawing and photo on his pillow – was he surprised? Happy? Annoyed, perhaps?

No, he wasn’t annoyed. The eight-hundred _Thank You_ ’s Hinata received via text didn’t suggest irritation. And it’s certainly not like Kageyama would ever keep those kinds of feelings to himself.

Especially when it comes to Hinata.

So maybe he smiled when he saw it. Yeah… yeah, Hinata hopes he did. He wants to _think_ that he did, anyway. And that maybe it wasn’t as much of a tragic embarrassment as he came to think it might be.

But, then again, he’s got the entire afternoon to be made fun of. Maybe Kageyama is just biding his time.

_That jerk._

But then his mind wanders to the arcade, and how, after a dangerous lapse in judgement, Kageyama felt against him when he’d leapt onto his back, how he could feel strong muscles tense and shift beneath his thighs – all of this came to him much later, of course, after Hinata was alone and tucked into his bed.

If Hinata had thought for even a second at the arcade about what he was doing, he would have run out of the building screaming.

He blinks and jerks himself back to the present, letting the bliss of yesterday evening drop into the pit of his stomach as a heady dread – he shouldn’t have agreed to seeing Kageyama again. Not after last night. Not after feeling Kageyama’s hands on him again, with the euphoria still so fresh.

It’s a debilitating feeling, in either direction.

And as any addict knows, all it takes is a taste to spiral back down into the deep hole of oblivion.

And, so, at eleven-thirty, Hinata takes a deep breath and wheels his bicycle from the garage, squinting in the bright sun. He tells himself that he can do this – as he has so many times before. He straightens his ear-muffs and zips his coat, setting his jaw before mounting his bike.

He can do it. It’s just volleyball. Volleyball with Kageyama on his birthday.

Because that’s what Kageyama wanted to do. It’s what Kageyama _asked_ to do.

But that doesn’t mean that things are going to go back to the way they were; Hinata has a promise to fulfill to himself still, after all. After today, Hinata will just have to start over again in his efforts to distance himself from the boy he loves.

And… dammit, he can’t quite put his finger on it, but buried deep beneath the taxing anxiety something echoes, ringing up from deep inside him as he leaves his driveway. A reminder of something that Kageyama said that’s been eating at him… something about practicing.

Something that makes Hinata think that maybe he won’t be missed once he severs the tie.

 But… no, it’s lost to him right now.

And yeah, maybe they can go back to being friends again one day, Hinata thinks to himself as his legs pump the pedals. Not _best_ friends – that’s not something Hinata will ever be able to handle. Not again. 

He frowns at that, a gloved hand leaving a handlebar to rub at his chest.

But hey, pain is familiar.

And it shadows him over the mountain.

 

* * *

 

 

Hinata shows up at Kageyama’s door a little before noon with the biggest grin he can manage. His heart aches so beautifully when Kageyama swings the door open and smiles warmly and genuinely in return.

“Happy birthday!” Hinata says, bouncing on his toes.

“How many more times are you going to say that?” Kageyama asks, but he’s not even trying to hide his toothy grin.

He must be having a really nice birthday.

Hinata shrugs. “Are we going or what?”

“Yes, god,” Kageyama mutters, closing the door behind him. “Let me get my ball.”

Hinata whines dramatically and stomps his feet with feigned impatience, just for the pleasure of doing so when Kageyama steps past him. And when Kageyama turns back to swipe at him, Hinata ducks and giggles.

“So,” Hinata says, leaping off the top step of the porch to follow Kageyama into his garage, “did your mom and dad get you anything cool?”

“Don’t know,” Kageyama replies, snatching his outdoor practice ball from the ground. “They didn’t give me my present yet.”

“What!?” Hinata cries, aghast as Kageyama leads the way back down the driveway. “Aren’t you dying to see what you got?”

“Not really,” Kageyama says. “I told them to give it to me tonight after dinner. Probably new shoes or something.”

“I can’t ever wait,” Hinata admits, kicking at the snow on the path.

“I know you can’t.”

Hinata doesn’t have to look up to see that Kageyama is smiling at him. He bites his lip, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him.

The rest of the short walk is mired in silence, but it’s a comfortable one. Hinata peeks up at Kageyama every chance he gets; he looks… _contented_. At peace. Hinata wonders if he should mention the gift, maybe apologize again for not getting him something better. But there’s something hanging in the silence that makes Hinata unwilling to break it – maybe it’s the wobbly smile that tugs at Kageyama’s lips, the rosiness to his chill-kissed cheeks or maybe it’s something intangible. Something completely invisible that Hinata doesn’t have the heart to disturb.

So he doesn’t.

Kageyama is radiating happiness, and since Hinata can’t readily detect the source, he assumes it must be fragile.

He can’t chance displacing something so precious.

His stomach sinks with the weight of envy, over who or whatever is making Kageyama so happy. Shit, maybe it’s just the prospect of volleyball. And Hinata _can’t_ be envious of that.

Maybe it’s the award from last night, or just the whole of the evening in general still buzzing beneath his skin. And Hinata was, at least, a _part_ of that, right? And maybe, for now, that should be enough to put a smile on his own face.

So, for now, it does.

They spend the entire afternoon together at the park, just tossing and spiking and running around; it’s much sunnier and far warmer than either of them expected, so it’s nice being able to shed their gloves and earmuffs and hang their jackets on a nearby swing set, to play freely in unrestrictive, long sleeve t-shirts.

The fluffy powder dropped the night before quickly yielded to the rising temperature – the warmth settling a bright sheen of crispy snow that crunches beneath their feet; and when Hinata starts whining about being thirsty, and after fifteen indeterminate games of _Rock Paper Scissors_ to decide who should run back to Kageyama’s house to get water bottles, they sit on a bench and eat snow.

Well, the cleaner stuff, anyway.

“See?” Hinata says, munching snow out of his hand, “it’s just like eating a popsicle.”

“I prefer cherry over dirt-flavored, but yeah, I guess,” Kageyama grumbles, rubbing his hands on his pants to dry them.

“There’s no _dirt_ , idiot.”

“Grass.”

“No.”

“Pee.”

“Ew, Kageyama!”

Kageyama smirks and swipes at the ground, but Hinata blocks the onslaught of snow with his arms. But now he has an idea.

“Hey,” he says, bending down and retrieving a fist full of snow. Kageyama immediately recoils when Hinata forms it into a tightly-packed ball. Brown eyes roll hard. “I’m not going to hit you with it,” he says, throwing it a short distance into the air and catching it. “Do you think—”

“You want to spike snowballs,” Kageyama interrupts, gathering snow into his hands himself.

Hinata nods enthusiastically. And then he frowns at the much bigger ball Kageyama makes with his stupid giant hands.

But after a few seconds of watching wide palms and long fingers smooth out the surface of the ball, Hinata presses his own palms to his face to soothe the burning in his cheeks.

“This isn’t going to work, you know,” Kageyama mutters, admiring his handiwork as he stands.

“Not with that attitude!” Hinata breezes, hopping off the bench and sprinting towards the net.

“It’s way heavier than a volleyball, dumbass!” Kageyama calls after him.

And with one panicked shriek, a stinging palm, and a face full of cold crystals later, Hinata decides that he might not be the genius he thought himself to be.

“Not really sure what you expected,” Kageyama goads, grinning down at a wet, supine Hinata. “Are you making snow angels?”

“Shut your face,” Hinata grumbles as Kageyama helps him to his feet. Hinata shakes himself like a dog to rid his hair of the fast-melting snow. He crosses his arms over his chest when Kageyama reaches to ruffle the last bit from damp locks, his cheeks pinking again.

But then he shivers.

“I should probably get going,” he sighs, nodding towards the setting sun. “I told my mom I’d be home before dark.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama agrees, following Hinata’s gaze towards the glowing horizon.

When the setter doesn’t respond further or make a move to leave, Hinata looks over at him. Blue eyes are still fixed in the distance. God, he’s beautiful.

“We can, um,” Kageyama says, finally, clearing his throat, “give you a ride if you want.”

“Ah… no, that’s okay,” Hinata replies hesitantly, walking towards the swings to retrieve his coat. “I have my bike.” He digs his earmuffs from his coat pocket and slips them on, feeling wildly self-conscious now that Kageyama is watching him. But still, the setter hasn’t moved.

“We have a car,” Kageyama presses as Hinata turns and zips up his jacket. “And it’s going to be cold once the sun sets.” Kageyama isn’t meeting his eyes, rather his gaze is resting somewhere on Hinata’s chest, a frown crinkling his brow.

Hinata glances down at himself. “What?” He asks, eyes flicking back up.

Kageyama looks like he wants to say something, like he’s struggling with the words. But then he says,

“Nothing.” And walks towards the swings to retrieve his coat as well.  

Nothing else is said until about two minutes into their walk, and Kageyama breaks the silence with,

“You’re going to be cold, idiot.”

“I’ll be fine, Kageyama,” Hinata says with a roll of his eyes, tugging the zipper up to his chin, demonstrating his _okay_ -ness and yet totally melting beneath Kageyama’s hostile care.

That alone will be enough to keep him warm on his ride home.

Although he sort of wishes he had his scarf; maybe he left it in Nishinoya’s van. He’ll have to remember to text him when he gets home.

But the rampant happiness that Kageyama oozed on their trek to the park is now absent on their walk back under the darkening sky, and a firm scowl has set itself in Kageyama’s face in place of the giddy smile.

Well, of course, Hinata reasons to himself. Volleyball is over for the day. And… well, maybe…

“Hey… Kageyama,” Hinata says quietly as they make their way up the path to Kageyama’s house. “Was this… um, are you sure…”

“What?” Kageyama asks, slowing his gait to a stop. Hinata walks a few more paces ahead before turning. He finds Kageyama’s eyes briefly before his own drop away to his shoes.

“Um…” he says again, fingers pulling at the bottom of his jacket, “was this really how you wanted to spend your birthday?”

“I said it was,” Kageyama replies.

Hinata swallows. “Yeah, but—”

“When do I ever do things that I don’t want to,” Kageyama says. “Why would you ask that?”

“You could have asked anyone to practice with you,” Hinata’s voice is softer and raspier than he intends for it to be, “Yuu, Noya, Yamaguchi,” Hinata lists off, “and they would have.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kageyama demands flatly. “We always practice together. Why would I ask someone else?”

“Well, yeah, we—” Hinata says haltingly before pressing his lips together and expelling a long exhale out his nose. He feels a spark of heat surge through him, flashing in his eyes when he raises them to Kageyama’s face.

“We what?”

“We used to,” Hinata says bitterly as his cheeks fill with a dangerous warmth. “So I thought that maybe—”

“I wanted to see _you_ , dumbass!” Kageyama snaps, startling the shit out of Hinata. The volleyball Kageyama was holding drops to the ground and rolls towards Hinata’s feet.

And Hinata’s face blanks; Kageyama’s choice of words kicks up an unexpected cloud of feelings and it’s all Hinata can do to slow the hopeful thudding of his heart. He asks,

“Why?”

“What do you mean _why_?”

“It could have been _anyone_ Kageyama!” Hinata insists, fists balling up at his sides. “A-and you even _said_ —”

“I wanted to practice with _you_! Why is that so hard to wrap your tiny brain around?” Kageyama hisses. “And keep your voice down!”

And suddenly, a voice takes over, bursts out of Hinata with,

“You told coach Ukai that you didn’t want to practice with me anymore!”

Hinata’s words echo loud throughout the snow-covered streets; branches bounce around them as distressed birds suddenly take flight from the skeleton trees. He’s breathing heavily, brows pinched behind quick puffs of visible air misting from his parted lips.

At first, Kageyama’s eyes get wide, expression surprised. But then he shakes his head, face twisting with angry confusion. And truthfully, Hinata is rather shocked by his outburst as well – he hadn’t realized that he’d been harboring such resentment. But now he feels _right_ ; like he’s finally able to put words to his rumination. _This_ is it – the thing that’s been telling him that it might not be so hard to put a safe distance between them, that his goal might be reachable if Kageyama doesn’t want to be around him anymore; this twisted fucking hope that maybe Hinata won’t have to try so hard to break his own heart. If Kageyama doesn’t want to be around him anymore he can do it. He can _do it—_

“What the hell are you talking about!?”

“That day in the gym!” Hinata reminds them both and anyone else within earshot, albeit vaguely and a little insanely; his heart is hammering with a frightening, _confusing_ , mix of need and fear – fear that Kageyama will confirm it, but also needing so desperately for him to. Because if he does, Hinata will be that much closer to freedom – that much closer— “you said it would be easy not to practice with me every day! You _said_ —”

“That’s not what I meant, you idiot!” Kageyama yells in return, throwing his hands up with exasperation.

“What—” Hinata licks his lips, _shit,_ “—what else could it have meant!?”

“You were—oh, god _dammit_ ,” Kageyama huffs, covering his face with his hands and then dragging his fingers up into his hair. He laces them together and cradles the back of his head, leaning back to look up into the sky. But then he lets his arms drop, eyes still pointed towards the first few visible stars. Hinata watches his breath leave him, fogging up into the chilly air. “I want…” Kageyama starts slowly. Here it comes. Hinata has to be brave – he can take the rejection, he _has_ to. It’s for the best. He can do it—

“I want things to go back to the way they were,” Kageyama admits thinly into the night.

And when Kageyama drops his head forward, looking back at Hinata with sad, pleading eyes, the cold winter air plunges down Hinata’s throat, wresting his stomach and freezing his heart – choking the last bit of courage he had to cling to; his bravery edging off into a deep, black abyss.

And there, beneath the dead, frozen husk of his determination, rises that unmistakable blossom of _hope_ , sprouting up through the permafrost that was once his strength – warm and flourishing and tragic – followed by a surge of intoxicating confusion, lacing through his veins with hideous tenacity.

“You,” Hinata croaks, head tilting to the side, color bleeding from his face, “y-you do?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, blinking away and scowling deeply. “I-I want to eat lunch with you again and… and it sucks when you don’t wait for me after practice. Or in the morning before school.”

“You want—” Hinata rasps, immobile from gut-wrenching panic. He’s doomed. He’s spiraling. “—to go back…”

He’s never getting away, is he.

How could he ever say no to that.

“Yeah,” Kageyama mutters, cheeks pink. But then he frowns at Hinata, eyes searching his paralyzed face. “What’s wrong with you?”

Hinata can’t speak; he’s staring directly into Kageyama’s questioning eyes, his lips parting and voice crackling like useless static in his throat.

“Alright, you know what,” Kageyama mumbles, face a bright red when he walks forward to retrieve the abandoned volleyball and then shouldering past Hinata, “you’ve given me enough. Careful on your ride home.”

Hinata turns stiffly, watching Kageyama walk slowly towards the steps of his porch. His eyes shift wildly from side to side across the wintery yard – he can’t let Kageyama’s birthday end this way, and no he _hasn’t_ given him enough! He barely gave him anything at all!

And so,

“Wait!” Hinata cries, scraping the thinnest layer of courage from the icy block within him, as delicate and temporary as frost beneath his fingernails. “Wait, Kageyama!” Hinata bursts past his friend on the porch, mounting the first step and stretching his arms out to either side to block the setter’s path. “Just—just wait!”

 “What?” Kageyama snaps.

“Okay!” Hinata says in a rush, his breath coming quick.

There’s a lengthy pause, and then Kageyama blinks. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Hinata says again.

“Okay what?”

“I-I… I want that, too,” Hinata doesn’t quite lie. Okay, no, it’s not a lie at all – he desperately wants that, it’s just that it might kill him.

“You don’t sound very confident,” Kageyama mutters, looking away.

“Of course I do!” Hinata insists with a stomp of his foot. “You’re… you’re my… I… of course I want that,” he finishes weakly.

“Then why—”

“I was… I was just confused,” Hinata says, wringing his hands. “I don’t know—”

“What could you have been confused about?”

“It was my fault, okay?” Hinata says quickly. “I didn’t know you would… _care_ , I guess.”

“Did you not want to hang out today?” Kageyama asks with a deep frown.

Hinata jumps. “No!” He cries, eyes wide. “I mean _yes_! I did! That’s not what I’m saying at all!”

“Then what are you saying?”

“Kageyama,” Hinata sighs, dropping his head and rubbing his eyes. “I don’t want to fight. Not on your birthday—”

“Fuck my birthday,” Kageyama says sharply. “I swear I’m going to punch you if you mention it again. Just… if you don’t want to fight then don’t say such stupid things!”

“I’m sorry, alright?” Hinata says softly, sliding his hands from his face. He wants to cry – mostly for himself, but _mostly_ over the way Kageyama is looking at him right now. He looks angry, yes, but Hinata can easily see pain in his eyes as well. And so he doesn’t cry. Instead, he smiles – big and wide and aching in the wake of his crumbling heart. “I miss you,” he says honestly, “I don’t know what… came over me,” he finishes, so very _not_ honestly.

Kageyama nods, studying Hinata’s smiling face; he doesn’t quite look convinced, least of all _satisfied_ , and so Hinata says, again, quietly,

“I really miss you.”

Kageyama nods again, only this time he pairs it with a small, half-smile.

“Okay?” Hinata asks, awkwardly, struggling to meet Kageyama’s eyes.

“Okay,” Kageyama agrees.

Hinata sighs, then, looking past Kageyama and into the dark street. “I have to go,” he says.

Kageyama nods. “You sure you don’t want a ride?”

“I’m sure,” Hinata answers, stepping off the porch. He turns back when he reaches his bike. “I’ll um,” he licks his lips, “see you tomorrow? At the gate before practice?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, still lingering in front of the steps. “I’ll wait for you.”

Hinata scoffs. “ _I’ll_ be waiting for _you_ ,” he says. “I’ll definitely be there first.”

“There’s no way you’ll be there before me,” Kageyama replies with a smirk.

“I guess we’ll just see then,” Hinata says smugly, climbing onto his bike.

And Kageyama ascends the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “I guess we will, then.”

And right before Kageyama reaches the door to his house, Hinata yells, “oh hey, Kageyama.”

The setter pauses with his hand on the knob and turns. “What?” He asks.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Hinata squeals, slamming his feet on the pedals and fleeing down the driveway, cackling.

Hinata hears the heavy thud of Kageyama leaping off the porch behind him and then a snowball whizzes past his face.

Kageyama would have hit him with it if he really wanted to, Hinata knows.

But he didn’t.

And that thought helps alleviate the burn in his chest and, somehow, it gives him a reason to smile all the way home. 

* * *

 

The rest of winter break passed by in a flash, and it spoke very little to Hinata in the ways of memorability. There was a short break from practice for Christmas; and it was nice to see his family, but he was relieved to see his teammates again after three straight days of shopping and cooking and traveling.

He was even more relieved, to his surprise, to see Kageyama again. It wasn’t nearly as hard being around him as he thought it would be – and, yeah, something did feel a little different, but Hinata’s feelings were manageable. And he was even genuinely excited to find that he and Kageyama would be in the same history class for the new semester.

But once school began again, Hinata realized that maybe things weren’t actually back to the way they were before.

Not entirely.

They still waited for each other in the mornings, ate lunch in the hallway during their break, and walked home together after practice.

But something was… absent. Strained?

But, like most things, Hinata isn’t smart enough to put words to it. So he chalks it up to his imagination; it’s all in his mind that Kageyama won’t look him in the eyes, or that he maintains a one-foot distance from Hinata at all times.

Before, there would be all these little moments of accidental contact – a knee bump during lunch or an innocuous brush of an elbow against Hinata’s arm as they walked. All moments Hinata had catalogued and hidden away for his secret, private moments, but since the new semester started, notable moments were few and far between, and his mental log starts to dwindle away to nothing.

But it's making things easier for Hinata.

And, overtly, Kageyama’s behavior isn’t any different – he’s still dumb and broody and antagonistic and he still grabs at Hinata’s hair and kicks him when the occasion calls for it.

And it often does.

So, yeah. It must be in his head.

And it’s fine.

It’s fine.

It’s _fine_ , is what he keeps telling himself over and over as the days drag on, as Kageyama sits silently beside him in their history class, chair tilted a little too far away most days.

 _It’s fine_ , he thinks when Kageyama says goodbye to him after practice, not really letting his eyes rest on Hinata’s face.

 _It’s fine_ , he thinks when he looks over at Kageyama during lunch, gaze flicking down to the space between them.

 _It’s fine_ , he thinks after looking to Kageyama for validation after nailing a tricky receive, but blue eyes just won’t meet his, despite the half-hearted smile curling at the corner of Kageyama’s lips.

_It’s fine._

_It’s fine._

_It’s—_

“Hey, Shouyou,” a voice calls one evening as practice winds down. Hinata lifts his head, setting his water bottle on the bench beside him as Nishinoya and Tanaka come jogging over.

“Can we,” Noya starts, throwing a look over his shoulder. Hinata follows the third-year’s gaze and watches Kageyama demonstrating something to Yuu with his back to them, “can we talk to you for a second?”

“Yeah, sure” Hinata says, quick in getting to his feet, “is everything— _wah!”_ He lurches forward when each of his upperclassmen take one of his arms, bodily dragging him into the equipment room.

“What the hell!?” Hinata cries after they throw him in. He wheels around, eyes flashing, but then Tanaka shoves a hand against his mouth, _shush_ ing him with a finger to his own lips.

“Keep it down,” Nishinoya says frantically, peeking back out of the door.

Hinata tips his head away from Tanaka’s hand, brows knit in confusion. “What’s going on!?” He whispers. “Is everything okay!?”

“I don’t know,” Tanaka says quietly, folding his arms over his chest. “Is it?”

“What?” Hinata cocks his head. “I don’t—”

“What’s going on with you and Kageyama?” Noya asks. “You guys are seriously driving everyone crazy.”

“Huh?” If Hinata was confused before, he… yeah, he doesn’t have the vocabulary to convey what he’s feeling now.

Nishinoya and Tanaka look at each other, eyebrows cocked in surprise.

“You really haven’t noticed?” Tanaka asks.

“Noticed what!?” Hinata yell-whispers. “You guys are being creepier than usual!"

“Ever since Kageyama’s birthday, he’s been…” Noya tapers off, looking to his friend for support.

“He’s been _weird_ ,” Tanaka finishes.

“Kageyama is always weird,” Hinata says flatly. “This isn’t news.”

“Did something happen between you two?” Nishinoya presses, ignoring Hinata’s snark.

“N-no…” Hinata stammers, looking away. “Nothing… I mean, we were kind of… I guess we were… like, yeah, _weird_ for a while, um, for lack of a better word, but—”

“Were you guys fighting?” Tanaka asks.

“No, it wasn’t a fight,” Hinata rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck, “I was… it’s kind of hard to explain. But we’re better now!” He punctuates with a wavering smile.

Tanaka and Noya look at each other again.

“Are you sure?” Tanaka asks.

“Um, yes?”

“Does _Kageyama_ think that you’re better?” Noya pushes.

“I… I think so? I don’t know why he wouldn’t,” Hinata says, licking his lips and fidgeting. But then he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “What the hell is this, you guys?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard him speak once since we got back from break,” Nishinoya explains. “And it’s not like he was much of a talker to begin with. But,” he sighs, stepping forward, “look, Shouyou, we’ve… we’ve noticed things.”

Hinata swallows, eyes widening. “Um… what kind of things?”

“Have you ever told him,” Tanaka starts, “that you… you know…”

“T-told him what?” Hinata stutters, taking a sharp step backwards. His trying to quell the panic rising up from his stomach – he swallows thickly to keep it down.

Tanaka sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Think of it this way,” he starts again. “Remember what it was like for you in middle school?”

“Middle school,” Hinata scrunches his nose. “What about it?”

“Remember how badly you wanted… how important it was for you to feel like you were part of a team?” Tanaka elaborates. “To have teammates?”

“Oh!” Hinata nods, understanding… sort of. “Yeah… it was… lonely."

“Right,” Nishinoya agrees. “It must have been super lonely. Now, just imagine what it would have been like if you _had_ teammates.”

“I... would have been happy.”

“But you were alone,” Tanaka reminds him, “You had people to practice with, yes, you had friends. But you weren’t part of a team. You… you didn’t know anything else besides that loneliness, right?”

“Yeah…” Hinata agrees slowly, brows knitting. “Why are you talking about this?”

“Kageyama had what you wanted, didn’t he?” Nishinoya takes over.

Hinata bristles.

“We aren’t at that part yet!” Tanaka snaps.

“Sorry."

“Imagine what it would have been like if you were part of a team… if you had teammates from the very beginning,” Tanaka continues. “But what if... all that was taken away suddenly? How much worse would that loneliness be… like, in comparison?”

“Um,” Hinata winds his fingers into the bottom of his t-shirt, “it would hurt.”

“Of course it would,” Nishinoya says. “And you would have your friends to turn to for comfort, right?”

“Well… yeah,” Hinata says slowly. He still has no idea what’s happening, but now he’s curious to see where this is going. “They’d try to make me feel better, I know that!”

“What if you didn’t have friends,” Noya says firmly.

Hinata blinks. “What?”

Tanaka groans in frustration. “Do you have any idea what we’re saying yet?”

 “Obviously not!” Hinata grinds out.

“This doesn’t sound familiar to you at all?” the libero squints his eyes.

“Should it?”

“It’s ringing _no_ bells."

“No!”

“Oh my god,” Nishinoya grumbles, palming his own face. “Kageyama!” He hisses. “We are talking about _Kageyama_ , for fuck’s sake!”

“Oh,” Hinata jerks back, blinking. “I… obviously knew that,” he mumbles.

“Shouyou,” Noya says kindly, his face softening. “I think that what Kageyama went through was terrible. He’s very…” he tapers off, struggling to find the word, “he’s very _himself_ , you know? He doesn’t really know how else to be.”

Hinata thinks about this for a moment and then nods.

“So when his teammates abandoned him… they abandoned _him_. Even though _you_ didn’t have teammates, you still had friends. You had people who cared about you.”

And with a sharp inhale, Hinata’s heart plummets to the floor.

“Kageyama’s team was all he had,” Tanaka says with a sad smile.

“Y-yeah, but this…” Hinata tries to rationalize despite his heart twisting, “this is _Kageyama_ you’re talking about, he’s—”

“Everyone needs someone,” Nishinoya interrupts quietly. “People like him, especially.”

“I… okay, so what?” Hinata asks defensively. “Why did you corner me like this? What are you getting at?”

“Is it really that crazy to think that Kageyama might be afraid of you doing that to him?” Nishinoya asks.

“Doing what to him?”

“Abandoning him.”

“What?” Hinata curls his lip. “He knows I wouldn’t do that.”

“Does he?”

“I…” Hinata frowns, lowering his eyes to the floor in contemplation. “Doesn’t he?”

“I don’t think so,” Tanaka tells him.

Hinata’s head snaps up. “I’d never do that to him!” He cries, then slaps his hands over his mouth. When he speaks again, it's hushed. “We have issues sometimes but I wouldn’t _abandon_ him! Not like... not like they did! He has to know that!”

“Have you told him?” Nishinoya asks.

“N-not exactly,” Hinata admits. “But I know he _knows_.”

Tanaka and Nishinoya look at each other again. “We think,” Nishinoya says, pulling his gaze back to Hinata, “that you should tell him.”

“How am I supposed to tell him something like that?” Hinata demands, exasperated.

“Just… let him know that he’s, like…” Nishinoya looks up to Tanaka for help.

“That he’s… _important_ to you.”

“Right,” Noya nods. “ _Important_. Get it?”

“Im… portant?” Hinata raises a brow.

“No… no, _important_ ,” Tanaka says again with that weird emphasis.

Hinata nods, eyes listing away as he does. “Important,” he repeats to himself.

“You really need to tell him, okay?” Nishinoya says encouragingly. “He needs to hear it… I think you both will feel better after that.”

“He’s just going to make fun of me for saying something like that,” Hinata says, looking back at his teammates.

But they both shake their heads.

“He won’t,” Tanaka insists. “You’ll make him happy.”

Hinata sighs deeply, and then he says, confidently.

“I’ll do it.”

“Just remember,” Noya says, stepping forward to whisper into Hinata’s ear, “he’s _important_ to you. _Im-por-tant.”_ He steps back, smiling, a hand on Hinata's shoulder. “You understand, right?”

Hinata wonders how he could possibly misunderstand something like that. So he nods, saying,

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Good!” His teammates say in unison.

They leave him there, reeling a bit in the dark room and gripping his aching chest just to ground himself.

So maybe it wasn’t all in his head.

 _Important_ , he thinks to himself.

Yeah – he can tell him that.

He hopes so, anyway.

But if it will make Kageyama happy, like Tanaka said, he’s going to try.

And it will be _fine_. 

Why wouldn’t it be?

**Three minutes earlier**

Kageyama scowls over at the equipment room. It’s been a solid five minutes since Tanaka and Nishinoya hauled Hinata into it and he’s starting to get curious.

“Are you coming, Kageyama?” Yuu calls from the gymnasium doors.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” Kageyama answers, eyes fixed on the dark room. “Go ahead.”

Once everyone else has filtered out of the gym, he approaches the open doors of the equipment room cautiously, tip-toeing slowly off to the side to remain unseen by anyone inside. He feels like an idiot. 

But the feeling isn't strong enough to stop, he supposes.

He kneels down beside the door, barely able to hear the voices within – go figure, the loudest idiots on the team really do know how to whisper. But then,

 _“—you really need to tell him, okay?”_ He hears Nishinoya say. He swallows, pulse quickening.

 _‘Him’_ , he thinks. _Me? What does he need to tell me—_

_“He needs to hear it. I think you both will feel better after that.”_

_“He’s just going to make fun of me for saying something like that.”_ That’s Hinata.

 _What are they trying to get him to tell me?_ Kageyama wonders. He licks his lips, pressing himself closer to the wall.  _Wait,_ he thinks, his breath catching _,_ _they can't mean..._

 _“He won’t_. _You’ll make him happy,”_ Tanaka says confidently.

Kageyama hears a harsh, Hinata-like sigh before a firm,

_“I’ll do it.”_

And Kageyama’s heart stops completely.

 _Oh… oh no,_ he thinks, his eyes widening. _No_ _… they don't actually mean...oh my_ god.

Kageyama climbs shakily to his feet, holding onto the wall for support as he staggers out of the gymnasium in a daze.

Kageyama isn’t stupid – he could hear it in their voices. And with what Noya already knows, Kageyama can’t possibly be mistaken.

He stumbles out in the cold, catching himself before he falls and leaning his hands down onto his knees to steady himself – to keep the world from spinning. He presses a hand to his chest as he pants, hard and quick and afraid.

Hinata is going to confess to him.

And Kageyama isn’t ready to lose him yet.

* * *

 

“Stop making weird noises,” Kageyama hisses quietly, keeping his face stuffed firmly in his history book. “You’re distracting me!”

“Excuse me for breathing,” Hinata shoots back, side-eyeing Kageyama.

“You sound like a jet engine, idiot. Cut it out.”

“I have allergies, okay!?”

“You have allergies in January?”

“No!” Hinata grumbles. “Shut up! No one told you to sit next to me!”

“It was the only seat left.”

“What about over there?” Hinata gestures to an empty seat.

“I don’t like sitting in the front.”

“What about over there, then?”

“That girl always tries to talk to me,” Kageyama grumbles.

“Quit your whining, idiot!”

“Dumbass.”

“Do I have to separate you two?” The teacher’s voice rings through the quiet classroom.

“No,” Hinata mumbles all red faced, just as Kageyama mutters, “yes.”

“Idiot,” Hinata whispers once more before scooting his chair away as far as possible. But then he smiles, shooting Kageyama a little glance.

It’s been three days since Hinata was encouraged to have a heart to heart with Kageyama, but it’s been completely impossible to get a second alone with him. Hinata would have accused Kageyama of avoiding him, except why would he have chosen to sit beside Hinata if that was the case? 

And so after class, Hinata decides, he’s going to tell him – whether there are people around or not, he isn’t going to care. He wants this gloom hanging over Kageyama to dissipate, and if he can help in anyway, then he will.

They said it would make him happy, right?

Hinata jumps a mile at the shrill ring of the bell.

“Hey,” Hinata says, scrambling to shove his stuff into his bag and chase Kageyama and his goddamn long-ass strides out the door.

“What?” The setter asks over his shoulder, weaving his way through students as he makes his way to his locker.

“I’ve been meaning—jesus, will you slow down?” Hinata gripes, falling a few steps behind.

“I have to get to my next class,” Kageyama says quickly.

“That was the last class of the day, stupid,” Hinata huffs.

“I-I mean I have to talk to a teacher,” Kageyama explains again, “before practice, I’ll see you there, okay?”

“Dammit, Kageyama, will you wait!” Hinata says loudly, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something!”

And then Kageyama seems to trip; he stops in the middle of the hall, whirling around just as Hinata crashes into him.

“Ow!” Hinata cries. “What the hell!” He looks up and is met with a face a pure panic, wide blue eyes regard him with horror and his throat works with a heavy swallow.

“W-what?” Kageyama asks as students stream around them, hurrying to leave the building at the end of the day.

“Jesus,” Hinata wrinkles his nose, “what’s wrong?”

“I-I um,” Kageyama stammers, tearing his gaze away from Hinata’s face, “I have to go to the bathroom, can we talk later?” And then he shoves his way past Hinata and flees back down the hall the way they came.

“What!?” Hinata yells, chasing after him. “Kageyama, wait! You _just_ went to the bathroom during class!” Hinata snorts out an angry breath, sprinting past Kageyama and jumping into the doorway of the bathroom.

And Kageyama skids to a halt, brows all crinkled up. “Stop blocking my way like that!” He growls. “It’s getting annoying.”

“Then wait for a second, okay!?” Hinata pleads.

“I can’t,” Kageyama snaps, turning away again and stalking back down the hall. “Stop following me! I’ll see you at practice, I said!”

 

 

 

 

Kageyama grabs at the straps on his backpack for security and walks as fast as he can back towards his locker. He’s going to get away from that goddamn confession if it kills him. But to his utter dismay, he can hear the quick _slap slap slap_ of Hinata’s quick footsteps looming up behind him, and a frantic cry of,

“Kageyama! Stop!”

He won’t stop. He _can’t_. He can’t hear this.

He reaches his locker and yanks the thing open, stuffing his backpack in and wrenching out his gym bag.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Hinata demands when he catches up again, curling his small fingers around Kageyama’s locker door and pulling it open, holding it there to keep Kageyama from closing it.

Trapping him.

“Fuck, Hinata, let me go, let go of the door!”

“No!”

“Fine then,” Kageyama mutters, walking away quickly, anyway.

Fuck his locker.

“Wha—Kageyama!” Hinata’s voice rings through the fast-emptying hallway, followed by the loud slam of his locker. “Stop running away from me!”

“I’m not running away,” Kageyama says with Hinata back on his heels, “I’m just in a hurry, I have to—”

“Stop, Kageyama! Please!” Hinata cries. And then Kageyama feels a hand catch around his wrist.

“What!?” He snarls, rounding on Hinata. “What the fuck do you want? What do you _want_!?” He yanks his arm away, breath angry and quick. But those big round eyes keep him rooted to the ground, all startled and worried and pleading. “Can’t it wait?” He asks, voice thick with grief.

“I just want to talk to you,” Hinata says, voice small. “What’s wrong?”

“I just, I have to go,” Kageyama mumbles, turning away.

This time, Hinata catches his hand.

“Don’t,” Hinata begs, “just listen to me for a second?”

“I… I can’t,” Kageyama chokes out, eyes dropping to the small hand curled around his. His heart is pounding, slamming inside his chest so hard he thinks it might burst. “Please, Hinata—”

“I just want to tell you something!”

“Hinata, don’t, please—”

“I have to, I just—”

“N-no, don’t,” Kageyama stammers around a violent, panicked exhale, “not yet, just wait—”

“Listen, please!”

“Stop, _please_ stop.” Kageyama covers his face with his free hand, screwing his eyes shut behind it. He’s panting, shaking, stomach twisting up into knots.

“Kageyama, I—”

 _Oh,_ fuck, he thinks. This is it. This is _it._ He’s doing it he’s saying it. _I’m not ready I’m not—_ “Please,” he bleats against his palm, “I’m not ready—” 

“You’re important to me, Kageyama!” Hinata cries.

 

 

 

 

Kageyama freezes.

And then he drops his hand from his face, letting it dangle limply beside him.

Hinata can hear his own breath rushing out of him in short, frightened exhales, his sweaty fingers flexing around Kageyama’s as he waits for a response.

But Kageyama’s face is blank – his eyes are vacant, lifeless.

But that changes. And it changes quickly.

Blue eyes flash, raging with a dangerous storm brewing beneath; he slowly removes his hand from Hinata’s. He blinks slowly, breathing out steadily.

“I’m,” he licks his lips, “important to you?” 

Hinata nods quickly. “Y-yeah,” he says softly, looking away. “I just need you to know that. You, um,” Hinata is trembling, and he’s sure Kageyama can see it, but he powers through. “You’re the teammate I always wanted, and you’re the friend that I… Kageyama, you asked me to trust you once,” Hinata recalls. “I-I need you to know that you can trust me too, okay?”

Kageyama is staring at him, motionless, expression unreadable.

“I… I’m not going to, uh,” Hinata fidgets with the strap of his messenger bag, “I mean, you don’t have to worry… with me, I… you’re really important to me.”

Hinata jolts, taking a jerky step backwards when Kageyama sucks in a sudden breath.

“I’m _important_ to you?” He repeats – but the word is toxic as it drops from his lips, ugly and foul and _wrong_.

“Um,” Hinata frowns, clearing his throat nervously, “yeah, what—”

“Important,” the setter spits again, like the word is acid on his tongue. “ _That’s_ what I am to you?”

This… this isn’t right. There’s something terribly wrong—

“Kageyama,” Hinata whispers, confused, “you’re… yeah, you’re extremely important to me. Don’t you know that? What’s—”

“Stop _saying that_ ,” Kageyama growls lowly, nostrils flaring with rage as he takes a menacing step towards Hinata.

“Stop saying what?” Hinata squeaks. How is this going badly? What went wrong here? This isn’t what was supposed to happen – he wasn’t prepared for this kind of a response. “That you’re important to me?” Hinata swallows. “You _are_ , Kageyama! You’re the most important—”

“I said _stop_ ,” Kageyama grinds out through his teeth. “I’m leaving now,” he says, simmering with a quiet anger. “Don’t. Follow me. Again."

And with that, he turns on his heel.

For a couple breaths, Hinata just blinks dumbly, watching Kageyama stalk down the hall. But then—

“No!” Hinata balls his hands into fists as a raging fire sparks to life inside him. “No!” He yells again, running after Kageyama.

Kageyama stops and turns, inches away from him with that same boiling gaze.

Hinata doesn’t care – Kageyama must have misunderstood, and goddammit he’ll make him understand, he _has_ to.

“I’m done listening to you,” Kageyama snaps. “Go away.”

Hinata doesn’t even know what to say anymore; he stands there in front of Kageyama, shaking with a scorching rage. This isn’t how it was supposed to go – Kageyama doesn’t get to treat him like this. This isn’t how it was supposed to _go—_

“Are you just going to stand there now?” Kageyama spits. “Like a fucking idiot? Or are you—”

“Shut the _fuck up_ , Kageyama!” Hinata screams.

Kageyama jerks like he’d been slapped, eyes impossibly wide at the outburst. Hinata thinks for a second that maybe he did, actually, hit him, but then he realizes that no, no that’s impossible because his fists are wound up tight in the collar of Kageyama’s shirt.

Later, Hinata will remember the sharp downward tug; the violent, frustration-induced spasm of his arm muscles and the bouncing flex to his feet that closed the distance between them.

The absolute last-ditch effort to make Kageyama fucking understand.

And then there's nothing in Hinata's world but soft, warm pressure.

 

His heels are back on the floor before he can process what happened, but the warmth still lingering against his lips and Kageyama’s frozen, wide-eyed look of utter shock and abject horror is far too telling.

Hinata releases Kageyama’s shirt and presses his fingers to his own tingling lips.

 

First, he laughs.

 

 

 

And then he runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/14 GUYS!
> 
> Hey. Okay, so it's been an unreasonably long time since I updated this and I'm eternally sorry for that. ESPECIALLY with the way I JUST LEFT IT IM THE WORST I KNOW. But this is just to let you know that I'm going to be focusing EXCLUSIVELY on the next chapter for the next few weeks after I finish an extra for Dr. Kags this week :D I really hope no one thinks I've abandoned this story. Please trust me when I say that this story is my life. I don't know what I would do without it and I might actually die once it's over (but that won't be for at least a year). Anyway. You can expect an update within the next couple weeks for sure!! Thank you so much for your love and support and PATIENCE my god. I hope you like what I have lined up :D


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's back!
> 
> Sorry for the delay and the confusion. But the chapter is finished now. While the first half is still mostly the same, I changed a few things here and there, but nothing that really affected the story. 
> 
> There may be some themes related to panic attacks, anxiety, and depression in this chapter. But I promise this is as bad as it gets. Cross my heart.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to @k-a-r-o-1221 for being absolutely amazing. 
> 
> Here we go...

It’s funny, you know?

You spend an unreasonable amount of time thinking, daydreaming, fantasizing whatever you want to call it, about a thing happening, you think you’d know how to respond to it.

That thing.

If it were to happen.

As it did.

At least, that’s what Kageyama thought.

Well, it’s what Kageyama would have thought if he were capable of such a thing.

Thought.

And you know that whole  _time standing still_  thing?

Yeah, well, it doesn’t. Time doesn’t stand still.

Kageyama can attest to that.         

What it does is bend and warp; it dissolves onto and into itself – shapeless and fragile like foam left from a crashing wave. The barest remnant of a tsunami, or it’s the whispering breeze, floating through the devastation after a hurricane.

And it distorts and pivots and skirts the confines of physics and subdues reality; wresting infinity to bring a distant and magnificent view suddenly into crystal clear focus with obscene, dazzling detail.

In that moment he sees the cosmos flare into being and align just to then recede into an abyss so deep and vast his mind unravels at the enormity. He sees earth’s atmosphere imbued with the white-hot crackle of violent energy, of lighting and flame splitting the primordial sky. He watches the continents shift and volcanoes erupt and fish drag themselves from the sea. He witnesses the fucking death of the dinosaurs and the evolution of man, all in real time.

He sees his birth and his childhood, the first time he held a volleyball and his very first game and all the horrors of middle school.

He relives the moment he first laid eyes on that ridiculous red hair and their reunion in the high school gym. He feels again what it was like to touch Hinata for the first time – that twinge of something confusing and unfamiliar in his heart that kindled into a raging inferno.

And then time cleaves and he delves into the future, or, fuck, some alternate reality is more likely.

Because just then he sees his own confession: a quiet moment after practice one evening as they walk side by side in the glow of the streetlights; he lagged behind his teammates, hung back, puttered around the club room to attain…  _this_. Hoping that Hinata would huff and puff and grouse about him taking  _forever_ , but he would lag, too.  He feels his nerves jump with every accidental brush of their bare arms. It’s warm, then, too warm for their jackets, and they sway as they slowly walk side by side in light t-shirts, and Hinata is whining about something. Probably the heat. But Kageyama is totally, entirely preoccupied with the words that have been running through his head all day.

The images of Hinata looking entirely too beautiful all night, all day, all of fucking forever and he just can’t take it anymore. And when Kageyama stops in his tracks it takes Hinata a second to realize he’s stopped walking. But when he does, he turns around with that little cock of his head, that little furrow in his brow and asks,

 _“What’s wrong, Kageyama?_ ”

And Kageyama looks back at him with a fullness in his heart.

 _“Please_ ,” he whispers after a pause where a warm breeze rustles their hair, knowing that Hinata can hear the tremble to his voice.  _“Come here.”_

And Hinata does.  _Warily_ , of course, but he walks back to Kageyama with that confused look in his eyes.

 _“What’s wrong?”_ He asks again.

And Kageyama shakes his head and steps close and brings a hand up to Hinata’s face. The redhead flinches, of course, at first, but he doesn’t duck away, and when shaky fingers brush across his cheek, brown eyes widen with a world of questions shining brightly within them.

Hinata is beautiful.

And Hinata starts to lean into the touch, but he seems to catch himself with a confused, almost sad smile playing on his lips. And Kageyama just can’t—

“ _I love you_ ,” Kageyama breathes.

And because time is so elusive, it’s an eternity before Hinata replies, his face and body completely frozen, lips parted in shock, in wonder, in disbelief because he couldn’t possibly have heard that right.

 _“What?”_ He squeaks.

But Kageyama says nothing further; he just ducks his head and softly, slowly, presses their lips together.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it’s perfect, and in that moment there is no fear. And Hinata doesn’t run.

It’s just one of the infinite number of fantasies he’s had detailing their first kiss – all of which he’s reliving right at this very moment, all at once. And Kageyama would describe the others, but with you still bound by the limits of time it would take years.

And he just doesn’t have the lexical prowess to paint those pictures for you.

So maybe it’s their last day of high school. Maybe they’re back at that fire during Nishinoya’s party or maybe they’re in the middle of the court with all the world to see. It doesn’t matter where or when they are because Kageyama is finally kissing the love of his life.

And when Kageyama draws back there are tears in both their eyes, and Hinata covers the hand against his cheek with his own.

 _“I love you too, Kageyama_ ,” Hinata whispers in a voice so thin that Kageyama worries that it will shatter if he takes another breath.

But then Hinata kisses him back; he raises all the way up onto his toes and holds Kageyama’s shoulders to place the tenderest kiss to Kageyama’s lips. And Kageyama drops his hands to Hinata’s waist and they stay like that for what feels like hours – in the middle of the street with their lips touching with the barest amount of pressure. Not because they don’t know what else to do, but because they want to hold onto the precious, fragile moment, to feel the other so close and finally,  _finally_  within reach of their love. The street is warm and secluded and perfect with rings of soft light from the streetlights swaddling them in a nighttime glow – a world made just for them. A signal to the future.

And even when Hinata breaks the kiss and his trembling legs, strong though they are, weaken just enough to drop his heels back to earth, they stay there staring into each other’s teary eyes, giggling and holding each other and letting time just slip away.  

And Kageyama finally is allowed to tell him absolutely everything; he admits it all: the fear and all the self-hatred. Recalling every single moment they shared that made Kageyama’s heart skip a beat and how each day Kageyama fell more and more hopelessly in love. How he doesn’t feel like himself without Hinata right there beside him. How Hinata’s energy lights his life like Kageyama never imagined as a possibility.

How Hinata saved him from,  _god_ , just  _so_ many things…

Because Hinata is still there. Hinata is still fucking  _there_.

No, not in some abstract  _never left his side_  kind of way.

Like, physically.

Hinata doesn’t fucking run away after they kiss. That isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

And, yeah, it’s a silly little fantasy, he knows. He knows Hinata doesn’t really love him but that’s not the point. Of all the ways he imagined their first kiss, Hinata is still fucking  _there,_  after.

And finally, after experiencing thirteen-billion years in real time, the frantic  _slap slap slap_ of sneakers on the hard floor sends Kageyama crashing back to earth and he blinks. Just in time to see a flash of red hair and a brown messenger bag disappear around the corner.   

_That wasn’t how it was supposed to go._

Kageyama should be holding him, now. Kageyama should have kissed him back. Kageyama should be pouring his entire heart out to him now but instead he’s staring dumbfounded at a blank spot in a vacant hallway.

He never even had a chance to experience it – to enjoy it or even fucking feel it.

It was over before he knew what happened.

_That wasn’t how it was supposed to go._

He pulls his fingers from his lips as his bag and backpack slouch to the floor. The echoing smack of Hinata’s retreating feet against the floor sounding further and further down the hall strikes something inside him and he takes off after him; without a plan or a thought. Like a starving predator after its prey.

 _That wasn’t how it was supposed to fucking_ go—

“HINATA!” His voice rips from him in a panicked fury as he trips around the corner, sneakers catching on the vinyl floor and throwing him against the far wall, shoulder hitting hard. He dizzily rights himself with a grunt and quick shake of his head, blue eyes rising to the figure paused at the end of the hallway.

Hinata is too far away for Kageyama to see his face clearly, but he can see the erratic pull of air into his skinny chest, body bobbing with every shaky breath as he holds onto the wall for what appears to be balance, a millisecond away from disappearing around another corner.

“Hinata,” Kageyama says again, this time through his teeth, and he shoves away from the wall to resume the chase.

 

 

 

Hinata shrieks and darts around the corner –  _god_ why the fuck did he stop.

The pounding of his sneakers resonating off the walls is no match for the hammering of his heart and the harsh rasp of breath in his throat. Hinata has never run for his life before; he’s never experienced the staggering terror of inevitable doom treading on his heels, and the only thing on his mind right now is putting as much distance between him and Kageyama as possible.

Because what the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

What the  _fuck_  did he do.

He can hear Kageyama behind him, voice furious and frantic when he shouts after Hinata again, and Hinata has to squash the urge to throw his hands over his ears to block the sound because he needs every part of his body to help propel him forward. Adrenaline demands that he run – that he fucking flee like his life depends on it because it  _does_. He forces everything he can from his shaking legs.

He ruined everything.  _Everything._

There may have been hope before. Maybe just a tiny flicker, wavering against the wind but it was  _there_ ; hope that Hinata would have been able to conquer his feelings, at least, not that Kageyama shared them.

 _Obviously_ there’s no hope for that.

But that’s all over now. There will be no natural resolution. And he has to get away.

The tears can come later, but now he has to run. He has to fucking run. Everything in his life hinges on him getting away: his future, his career, his health, his fucking sanity. They all depend on this moment right now.  

Because he can’t bear the fallout. He can’t hear all the reasons why what he did was wrong. A travesty. Fucking disgusting.

And, honestly, if every cell in his body wasn’t busy hurling him faster and faster down the corridor then maybe he’d laugh.

Because this is how it ends, huh? This is it – the culmination of all this pining, all this time spent in tragic, gut-twisting love. It ends with him absconding with his feelings down this fucking hallway? Really?

He’ll worry about switching schools tomorrow.

He’ll let the devastation pry him apart tomorrow.

He’ll let his life be utterly over  _tomorrow_.

Because now he’s almost free. Around the next corner is the exit and he’s almost there. Once he’s outside there are places to hide and his  _bike_ if he can get to it. Kageyama can’t catch him now and, fuck, he’s been able to outrun Kageyama for about a year now, anyway. Maybe Kageyama even knew that Hinata would let him win all those races to the gym. Maybe Hinata had hoped so deep inside that Kageyama knew all along, because what’s more telling of his love than allowing himself to hand over victory to his rival.

You don’t need question marks when you know all the answers.

He’s almost there. It’s almost over. He swings himself around the corner and he sees the exit and he’s almost—

He doesn’t even get the chance to think about changing course before he crashes full speed into the overflowing book cart parked in the middle of the goddamn hallway.

 

 

 

A scream barely precedes a thunderous clash as Kageyama barrels around the corner, just in time to watch Hinata collide with a library cart with tremendous force. Books scatter as Hinata’s momentum carries him into and over the top of the thing, tipping it with him to smash against the floor.

But despite watching all of this, Kageyama doesn’t have time to react, either.

His foot skids on a book on the floor, pitching him off balance and sending him tripping over the capsized cart. He expends all his energy to avoid crashing down directly on top of the other boy who is flopping and flailing about in the heap of strewn books like a fish out of water, and so he falls sideways on top of the empty shelves, his elbow hitting the floor so hard that his vision jars and teeth gnash together in pain.

But there’s no time for injury right now.

“Hinata,” he forces out, rolling his body off the cart to perch on all fours, crouched like a cat ready to spring and eyes wide and wild as he watches Hinata desperately try to scramble up with the strap of his messenger bag caught in one of the wheels. He drags the cart a screeching foot across the floor before he turns and falls heavily onto his ass to brace his feet against a shelf with a panicked string of  _‘no no no no no’_  spilling from his lips as he yanks and pulls.

“Stop!” Kageyama growls, teeth clenched and chest heaving, his muscles coiling. “Hina—don’t—”

Anguish flickers across Hinata’s face and he drops the strap before swinging his legs beneath himself and jumping to his feet.

“S-sorry—mistake—it wasn’t—I didn’t—” Hinata’s voice shakes out of him before he wheels around and leaps back over all the books and the cart to try to take off back the way he came.  

Blue eyes fling wide and Kageyama pushes off the floor with his hands and windmills his arms back behind him blindly, fingers managing to snag around Hinata’s ankle in mid-flee and yank him down out of the air just as his own back hits the ground hard.

And Hinata’s face would have smacked against the floor, too, if it wasn’t for those reflexes of his. He catches himself on his hands with a terrified cry.

Kageyama flips himself over onto his chest and tightens his hold.

“KAG— _AH—_ KAGEYA—NO! NO PLEASE— _PLEASE—_ " Hinata screams as Kageyama pulls him back by his foot; fingertips and palms squeak across the shiny floor as Hinata frantically scrambles and claws to get away. Kageyama catches Hinata’s other sneaker in his hand before it rockets into his face in all of the crazed flailing. Shit, if one of those powerful legs were to land a blow, Kageyama would be nursing a broken jaw for months.

“FUCK—HINATA—STOP IT—”

“I’M SORRY—I’M SO SORRY—I’M SO SORRY—” Hinata is wild and uncontrolled in his thrashing, but Kageyama manages to pull him beneath his body and wrap his arms tight around him, trapping Hinata’s own arms to his sides.

“Stop it— _stop it—”_ Kageyama grinds out, struggling to keep his grip on Hinata and pin him to his chest against the floor.

 “LET ME GO—LET GO—KAGEYAMA—” Hinata won’t stop yelling and kicking, his heels battering Kageyama’s shins as he rolls them onto their sides. “YOU HAVE TO—TO LET ME GO—LET ME GO—”

“Fucking  _stop—_ ” Against his better judgement, Kageyama snakes and arm up to cover Hinata’s mouth with his palm. “Calm down, dumbass,” Kageyama growls into red hair, “you’re going to hurt— _FUCK—”_

Kageyama howls when Hinata bites him, but he grits his teeth and takes the pain in his absolute last effort to calm the struggling boy. He yanks his hand away from Hinata’s mouth and just squeezes him to his chest, clinging on for dear life and hoping – fucking  _hoping_  – that Hinata’s endurance doesn’t hold. But Hinata just keeps screaming: one wailing  _LET ME GO_  after another.

But one more sharp heel against his shin has Kageyama snarling, and his grip weakens. Hinata takes this as a chance to wiggle around in Kageyama’s embrace to face him and wedge his arms up in between them to push at Kageyama’s chest in a new effort to break free.

But Kageyama is having none of that. He grabs Hinata’s hands and flips him over onto his back, pinning his wrists to either side of his head and straddling his hips to the sound of sneakers squealing and squeaking against the floor.

“LET GO—LET ME GO—LET  _GO—”_

“STOP IT!” Kageyama finally roars. “DUMBASS, FUCKING STOP!”

And Hinata does.

He goes completely limp against the floor. His head lolls to the side, messy red locks splaying beneath his head as he screws his eyes shut, both their chests shaking with the remnants of panicked breathing. They stay like that for several minutes, the two of them; but when their breaths calm, Kageyama remains hyper-vigilant, fingers unwilling to loosen around thin wrists and eyes refusing to glance away. And then—

“Let me go,” Hinata whimpers; it’s barely even a sound. “Please… please let me go.”

“Hinata—”

“Please let me go, Kageyama.”

The setter swallows hard when a heavy tear falls from the other’s lashes, dripping across the bridge of his nose.

“U-um—” Hinata chokes, catching his wobbling lip between his teeth when his damp eyelids flutter. His breathing becomes unsteady again, trembling his chest on every laborious inhale. He rolls his head back over the floor to meet Kageyama’s gaze. Wet brown eyes are filled with so much fear, so much despair. Their light so dim.

In their time together, Kageyama has seen Hinata shed more tears than most, but always behind the sorrow thrived a sparkling lifeforce. Unwavering in the face of grief.

But now it’s gone.

And Kageyama feels himself fracture apart, and a coldness seeps into the cracks. It renders him utterly empty.

“W-wait,” Kageyama pleads to those lifeless eyes – as if calling to the light, begging for it to return to him, “you don’t understand—”

“It didn’t mean anything,” Hinata rasps, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes and down his temples and into his hair. “It was an a-accident. I-I—” his voice drowns in a guttural sob forced through his teeth. He tips his head backwards and cries hard, eyes shut tight and body shaking with every ragged breath. He can barely get his words out. “I’m getting—confused—I feel—Kageyama  _please_ —it meant  _nothing_ —"

“Confused?” Kageyama repeats, desperate eyes searching Hinata’s face. “About what? Hinata, what—"

“It was just—a mistake—a terrible— _disgusting_ —”

“Disgusting?” Dark brows pinch when pain rips through his chest; he grimaces and drops his head. “N-no—no, it—Hinata—” Fatigue flows over him, then; all the exhaustion in the world rolls over his body in swelling waves, hunching his shoulders and flagging his breath.

And then a small voice weeps up at him, hopeless. Depleted,

“You’re hurting me, Kageyama.”

The words punch through him; the fist heavy, the fingers bony and crooked, twisting and choking him when he sucks in a sharp, shattered inhale. Kageyama raises his head and sees Hinata’s face. And all the pain he’s ever put there.

He lets go.

And Hinata scrambles up from the floor. But he doesn’t run again – not yet.

He just stands there for a second, scrubbing over his eyes with his sleeve. He takes in a big, shuddering breath before looking down at Kageyama where he’s still kneeling on the floor, bloodshot brown eyes blinking through the endless, silent tears.

Kageyama doesn’t understand a lot of things. He knows this. He’s easily confused by social subtleties and he’s not good with deciphering expressions or body language. Too often he’s struggled with characterizing his own feelings, let alone other people’s. And it’s because of this, he knows, that’s he’s been accused of being callous – downright mean, at times. He says things he shouldn’t, things that he doesn’t intend to sound so cold. He doesn’t mean to. He really,  _really_  doesn’t. He wants so badly to understand and to be understood, to be included in all the understanding and secret happiness that everyone else out in the world seems to enjoy. To feel all those things that come so naturally to everyone.

It’s lonely not to understand.

But he’s gotten better – please _please_ believe that he’s so much better now.

You believe him, right?

_Aren’t I? Hinata?_

He may not understand many things.

But this –  _this_  he understands. The hurt.

The disappointment.

The expression on Hinata’s face is one he can read well.

 _‘Disgusting_.’

Kageyama opens his mouth and takes a small breath, but he closes it again. With pleading eyes pinned to Hinata’s little face, all flushed and streaked with tears, Kageyama realizes that maybe, for everyone else’s sake, it’s easier for some people to just be unhappy. People like him.

And, yeah, Kageyama could just blurt everything out – that he’s in love with him. That he’s… fuck,  _probably_  been dreaming about kissing Hinata since they became teammates.

Maybe even before that.

And just then, it occurs to him that maybe all that stuff about being important was just Hinata’s dumbass way of trying to tell Kageyama his feelings. Maybe it really  _was_ the confession that Kageyama was both dreading and longing to hear.

Maybe.

 _Maybe_.

And if that’s the case – if that idiot suddenly learned how to convey… fucking…  _subtext_ or whatever, then… then that means…

_Fucking monster._

             _You deserve this._

 _He tried to tell you and you_ yelled _at him._  

His eyes drift away from Hinata’s face and fall to the floor as that realization sinks in.

_What kind of person are you?_

_But he… that wasn’t what he said—_

_You ruined this. It’s your fault._

“No… no, I—“

He snaps his mouth shut.

_I didn’t mean to._

But he could tell him everything now. He could explain it all away. If he asked Hinata to come to him now, would he? Could he hold Hinata’s hands and look up into his eyes and just fucking  _explain_ himself for once? Could he get the light to come back if he just fucking  _told him everything_?

Maybe.

But then how soon after would he be looking at that heartbroken face again.

He uses all of his strength to raise his head. He takes a breath.

And he says nothing.

There’s one more sniffle, one last tiny sob and then Kageyama watches Hinata’s teeth grit and fists ball up at his sides. He shakes his head, red hair rustling over his forehead at the gesture, his brows drawn together tight.

And then he turns on his heel and runs the rest of the way down the hall.

Kageyama flinches at the echo of the door being slammed open.

And then he’s alone.

A minute rolls by. Maybe two. An hour. A day. A fucking century passes with him just staring at the empty spot where Hinata just was.

He realizes, just then, how badly his elbow aches and he wraps a hand around it, grimacing at the heady throb beneath his fingers. His other hand clenches into a fist and he hisses in a new pain. Bringing the hand attached to his injured arm to his face while still cradling his elbow with the other, he almost laughs at the angry red ring of teeth marks imprinted between his thumb and forefinger.

Instead, a heavy tear rolls down his cheek.

He wipes at it angrily with his bitten hand before surveying the damage around him, eyes lingering on the worn messenger bag left abandoned on the floor.

Just like him.

He feels hollow – eviscerated and scooped out.

A dampness at his fingertips has him inspecting his arm. Lifting his hand he can see bright red blooming from beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

There’s no way Ennoshita will let him play today. It’s not like he wanted to, anyway.

Kageyama spends a short eternity collecting the books scattered around him and sticking them back onto the empty shelves once he rights the cart. He rations the minutes, one by one, letting the heavy silence of the school settle and fill his empty chest.

Something has to.

 _‘Disgusting_.’

He tries to put the lightlessness of those eyes from his mind, to somehow shake the glacial crawl of dread dragging at his gut as he picks up Hinata’s bag before he walks back down the hall to retrieve his own things where he left them, nursing his hurting arm. He’ll store Hinata’s bag in the club room… he’ll have Yamaguchi relay the message.

The sky is grey and the air is still and cold when Kageyama knocks open the door with his shoulder, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel anything.

He waits until he’s tucked safely around the corner of the building to do that.

To feel.

He presses his hands to the rough brick and screws down his eyes before he collapses to his knees, uncaring of the wet snow that leeches through his jeans. His fists close so tight his arms shake, the skin on the backs of his fingers abrading against the wall coarse.

“ _FUCK—“_

The word punches out of him, strung up high at the end with a guttural rawness.

And he lets himself fall apart.

 

It won’t be until the morning that he’ll notice his knuckles, torn and bleeding.

 

* * *

 

Kageyama is a few minutes late to practice the next morning – he isn’t really sure how he got there or why he even showed up in the first place – but Ennoshita is more than understanding when he sees his arm, freshly bandaged. Or maybe it’s his shins, littered with bruises.

Why did he change into shorts?

Or the band-aids he haphazardly slapped over his knuckles.

Or maybe it’s what the captain can see in his face.

Either way, his tardiness is quickly excused and he’s tasked with rounding up the first years and running some light setting drills – avoiding further injury to his arm at all costs, of course.

Hinata, however, is ten minutes late when he bursts into the gym in an apologetic fury, his sneakers dripping icy water all over the gym.

He looks positively ravaged from lack of sleep and hours of crying; dark circles carve so deeply beneath his bloodshot, puffy eyes and his skin is sallow, so pale and gaunt he’s almost transparent.

It isn’t hard for Kageyama to keep his own bleary gaze away from Hinata on the other end of the gym, where he and Tsukishima trade receives with Yamaguchi and Tanaka.

Looking at him just hurts too much.

What  _is_  hard to ignore, however, is the way Tanaka keeps throwing these looks of sympathy between Hinata and Kageyama; though every time he meets Kageyama’s eyes, that kind face twists into a hard, menacing scowl.

_‘Disgusting.’_

Kageyama shakes his attention away and refocuses what energy he can on their morning practice. Every few minutes, though, he forgets himself and catches his injured arm in his hand, wincing while waving off the concern of his underclassmen. Except Yuu isn’t so easily fooled. Kageyama gives a tight smile every time their eyes meet, and he can see the struggle not to press the issue creased in the first year’s forehead.

_‘Disgusting.’_

“Alright, guys,” Kageyama says, sticking his hands to his hips. “Do uh, the thing,” he gestures vaguely with a hand as he turns away. “I’ll just, I’ll be…” he doesn’t even bother finishing his sentence as he’s already walking towards the bench. He sits down heavily and drops his weary face in his hands. He wonders if he should just up and leave the gym, walk somewhere, anywhere, and just never look back.

He could probably make it a few miles before freezing to death.

Maybe more if he grabbed his jacket. But the  _freezing to death_  part is key—

“Hey.”

Kageyama raises his head and watches Yuu take a seat beside him.

“You should be practicing.” Kageyama snags his water bottle and puts it to his lips. He closes his eyes and sighs before taking a sip.

“Did something happen?” Yuu asks, eyes following Hinata around the other side of the gym. “You guys—”

“Nothing happened.”

“Are you—”

“ _HINATA_ —”

Kageyama jerks, whipping his head around just in time to see Hinata’s own gaze pull away from him and Yuu before getting blasted in the face with a ball.

Kageyama is on his feet in an instant, his water bottle hitting the floor the same moment Hinata does.

It’s not like this hasn’t happened a dozen times before; but still, Kageyama’s brows knit all the same and he takes an instinctual step forward when Hinata dizzily pushes himself to his knees.

Now this is the part where Hinata always laughs, high and musical before he leaps to his feet and charges back in.

Kageyama licks his lips and swallows, waiting for it – waiting for Hinata to… to just  _be_ fucking Hinata.

“ _C’mon,”_  Kageyama mutters under his breath. He doesn’t even care when he sees Yuu shoot him a look out of the corner of his eye.

But that laugh doesn’t come. Instead, he watches Hinata double over and clutch his face in his hands.

“Shit,” Yuu mutters, “nosebleed?”

“It…” Kageyama’s frown deepens, “…looks like it.”

While most of them have bled from the nose at one time or another on this team, and with the number of times Hinata has been bashed in the face, it’s sort of a wonder that this would be the first time it’s happened to him. Or… it’s really not, actually.

He’s gotten  _really_  good at receiving with his face.

But still—

Kageyama takes another a step forward. “I should—”

But Yuu catches his arm, voice nervous as he tries to turn Kageyama’s attention away. “Tanaka’s got him. We should get back—”

“But,” Kageyama looks from Yuu to Hinata, “I have to—”

And Kageyama’s heart plummets ten stories down.

Because when Tanaka helps Hinata to his feet, Kageyama can plainly see there is no blood on his face. Oh… how he would have traded his life for just a little bit of blood behind those small fingers.

_What a selfish piece of shit._

Instead, heavy tears flow down over Hinata’s cheeks, and Hinata clings to Tanaka to stay upright; his body shakes, wracked with powerful sobs too violent for his frame as he’s gently ushered towards the exit, now with Noya tucked up under one of his arms and helping to prop him up as he staggers over the floor.

Of all the times he’s been hit, Hinata has never shed a tear for it.

It’s obviously not about the ball.

And right before they step through the door, Tanaka fires a look back at Kageyama that’s so vicious it could slice a diamond to ribbons.

He shouldn’t have come here today.

Why did he come here today.

“Kageyama,” Yuu whispers once Hinata is gone. He touches his arm gently, coaxing blue eyes away from the door.

No one wants him here.

“Don’t,” Kageyama grumbles, pulling away.

“Come on,” Yuu urges quietly as the activity in the gym starts to pick up again, “practice will help get your mind off things.”

“Get my mind off  _what_ , exactly?” The setter snaps, squaring himself in font of Yuu and narrowing his eyes. “ _Him_!? I’m expected to get my _mind_ off _that!?_ ”

“Just…” the first year takes a step back, swallowing nervously. “I just thought—”

“I can’t practice like this anyway,” Kageyama growls, gesturing to all his bandages. “What fucking use am I if I can’t play?”

“You were good at, um, t-teaching us…”

“Fuck,” Kageyama balls his fists, “ _FUCK!_ ” he yells again when the scabby skin at his knuckles pulls and sends a wave of prickling pain over the backs of his hands. He rubs his palms up his face as tears pool in his aching eyes. “Fuck,” he whimpers quietly into his hands. He can feel the eyes of his teammates all over him – scrutinizing and judging.

Do they all know what happened? Do they know what he did?

“I have to get out of here, Yuu,” he takes a shaky breath. “I have to get out.”

“Yeah,” Yuu says soothingly. Kageyama can’t see him, but he can imagine that worried face staring back at him. He wants to punch it. “Yeah, o-okay,” Yuu’s soft, understanding, fucking  _sickening_  voice continues. “Want me to go with you somewhere? Do you need the nurse?”

                _Are you going to hurt him, too?_

Tremors run up Kageyama’s chest, turn, then run down his arms. “No,” he pushes out from between grit teeth, mostly answering his own question but answering Yuu in the process.

He doesn’t deserve this kindness.

“Do you think he’s…” Kageyama sucks in a breath and drops his hands, his eyes finding the exit. “Do you think they’re gone?”

“Who?”

“They took him to the bathroom or something, right?” His voice is shaking. He doesn’t care. “Or to the nurse?”

Kageyama wants to throw up. He wants to scream. He can feel himself sweating, cold, and he can’t face the thought of leaving, of walking out that door and coming face to face with Hinata still standing there with the third years, sobbing and trembling and telling them about how awful Kageyama is. But then again, all he really wants is to run out after Hinata and grab him and hug him and beg to kiss him again, just once more, just  _once more_  and then Hinata can leave him if he wants to just let him know what it feels like just let him feel that it was  _real_  so at least he has  _that_  to cling to for the rest of his miserable lonely—

“Jesus, Kageyama,” Yuu steps up close to Kageyama, grabbing at his shoulders. Shakes him once. “What’s going on?”

And Kageyama realizes his breathing is rough, ribs too heavy around his lungs. How can he be so overwrought with emotion and yet feel himself numbing to the core? His face is wet. He rubs at his eyes and turns away from his worried teammate and lets his stiff legs carry him over the word floor. He’s not going to chase him. Hinata. He just wants to go home.

_Home._

The word doesn’t carry the same safety it once did.

Not without  _Hinata_ —

Yuu is saying something else, yelling after him, but Kageyama is too busy breaking apart to hear it. Or maybe it’s the voices in his head, deafening and cruel.

 _Monster_.

_You’re terrible._

_I deserve this._

_Who would ever love you._

_‘Disgusting.’_

That last one isn’t even his. But it’s the loudest.

_‘You’re hurting me.’_

_Hold it together, Tobio._

_‘Disgusting.’_

_Just a little longer._

God, what has he done.

_‘It was a mistake.’_

_‘It meant nothing.’_

_‘Disgusting.’_

_Monster._

_‘Disgusting.’_

_You’re not important to anyone._

_‘Disgusting.’_

_‘Disgusting.’_

_‘Disgusting.’_

 

* * *

 

 

It’s dark outside when Kageyama wakes, though  _‘comes to’_ might be a better way to put it.

He left practice without a word to anyone and barely had the wherewithal to stop by the clubroom to grab his stuff and pull on his jacket. He doesn’t remember when he made the decision to skip school. He doesn’t even remember the cold walk home. With his dying husk of a body set to autopilot and screaming for sleep, it’s no wonder he’s still wearing his practice clothes in his bed.

And his kneepads.

And his sneakers.

He probably has to wash his sheets now.

“Shit.” He rolls himself over onto his stomach, fumbling for his phone on his nightstand and wincing at the brightness when he checks the time.

_7:58_

“Shit,” he mutters again, letting his arm drop limply over the side of the bed. His phone falls from his hand and lands softly on the carpet.

His eyes sting; despite having slept for almost twelve hours, he feels like he hasn’t blinked in days. His mom didn’t wake him for dinner.

His parents probably don’t even realize that he’s home.

It’s fine. He doesn’t want to eat, anyway.

He pushes himself into a sitting position and stiffly swings his legs off the bed.

The bluish tint to the dark room does nothing to alleviate the sense of dread hanging over him; to instill calm as it once did. He remembers the quiet of the walls after a long day of isolation – of alienation. They were safe for him. Barriers against a world that he didn’t know and that didn’t wish to know him. He was at peace, there, in his room with no one but himself, where he could privately enjoy all the ways that he just wasn’t the same as everyone else. And it was okay – it was all okay back then to just be by himself. Alone.

In a world where you don’t need anyone there is never loneliness. There’s never any disappointment or heartache or defeat.

But Hinata took that all away from him. He ripped it from the death grip he had on a life of solitude that was safe and predictable.

And the dark is so crushing after you’ve faced the light.

He hates him.

                _No you don’t_.

He loves him.

And it hurts.

It hurts so much that Kageyama can’t even feel himself anymore. His thoughts, feelings, actions, they’re all so messy and rough. So broken. Nothing about what he’s been doing or feeling makes even a bit of sense. But it’s not like he’s been trying to make sense of it all. He just doesn’t have the energy. His brain has turned on him, and that leaves little room for rational thought.

The air in his room hangs uncomfortably all around him. He feels like a stranger, there, sitting on his own bed – out of place and unfamiliar. Taking up too much space.

Even his bedroom doesn’t want him around.

“Tobio?” Kageyama jumps at the soft knock at the door. “Honey, are you in there?”

He grimaces at the care in his mother’s voice.

“Can I come in?” She asks through the door. “Are you sick?”

Kageyama untacks his tongue from the roof of his mouth to answer, but his voice just can’t find its way out.

His mother cracks the door anyway, a stream of light following her into the room. Kageyama squints his aching eyes against it, stuffing his hands beneath his thighs to hide the scabs mottling his knuckles.

The bandages are probably lost somewhere in his sheets.

“We didn’t hear you come home,” she says quietly, sitting beside him, worried eyes searching over his face.

“Yeah, I…” he hates the rasp in his voice, “got home when you were at work. I, um, don’t feel good,” he finishes with a hoarse mumble.  

Kageyama flinches when his mom does the mother thing and puts her hand to his forehead. “You don’t feel warm,” she says, then pressing her cool hand to his cheek. “Did something happen at school?”

Kageyama pulls away from the touch and stares hard at the floor in front of him. “No.”

He can see his mother out of the corner of his eye, looking at him with so much concern that it makes him sick to his stomach.

“I saved some dinner for you if you think you can eat.”

He shakes his head.

“How about some water?”

He almost shakes his head again, but he nods.

“Okay, honey,” she says. She rubs his back gently before standing and then walks out of the room.

It takes all his willpower not to burst into tears.

He doesn’t deserve such kindness.

She returns quickly with a cold glass of water, ice clinking around the sides as she sits beside him again.

“Thank you,” he mutters, taking the glass from her. Remembering too late that—

“Should I call the doctor?” His mother asks, eyes flicking only once over his damaged hand. But she doesn’t mention it directly.

“No,” Kageyama says quickly, bringing the water to his lips. It’s too cold in his mouth but it soothes his dry throat, and he drinks half of it down. He squeezes his eyes shut, then, and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. His mother is staring hard at the side of his face.

“I can see if she can get you in tomorrow.”

“No, mom,” he says, his voice coming easier. He clears his throat. “I’m okay.”

She nods, but Kageyama knows she isn’t satisfied. “You can stay home from school tomorrow, if you want to,” she says, rubbing his back again.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Why don’t you take a shower and get into bed?” She suggests. “You’ll feel better after a shower.”

Kageyama nods and reaches to set the glass on his night stand. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I know.”

His mother sits there with him for a few more minutes, rubbing his back while he stares blankly at the floor. But then she says, softly and kindly,

“Did you fight with Shouyou?”

His heart seizes up.

He knows his mother can feel the change in his body because she lifts her hand from his back, almost startled.

He drops his face into his hands.

“It’s not as bad as you think it is,” his mom says.

“How do you know?” Kageyama asks into his palms.

“Because it never is.”

“I think,” Kageyama drops his hands, “this is different.”

“What happened?”

Kageyama shakes his head. Not because he doesn’t want to talk about it – he doesn’t, but that’s not what he means – but because he doesn’t know how to explain any of it. Least of all why he feels this way now.

“Alright,” his mom says, understanding. She pats his shoulder and stands, reaching for the glass. “I’ll fill this for you and I’ll bring you some of those pills to help you sleep.”

“I don’t need them,” Kageyama says with a frown aimed at his dark window.

“I know,” his mother says, pausing at the open door. “But just in case.”

Kageyama sighs out a long breath when he’s alone. A shower does sound good.

But it isn’t going to solve anything.

He gets to his feet, regardless, and shucks his shoes and kneepads. He rubs hard at the indented flesh at his knees, willing circulation back into the skin where the elastic pressed.

He walks to his dresser when his mother returns with two little white pills and a full glass of water which she places on his nightstand. And then she starts tugging the sheets and blankets from his bed.

“I can do that,” Kageyama mutters.

“I know you can, sweetheart.” His mother turns to him with his bedding bundled in her arms. “Just feel better. You’ll have clean sheets to sleep on tonight.”

A deep breath shakes his chest when his mother is gone and he pulls open the top drawer to dig out some clean pajamas.

But the first shirt he pulls out is black, and he can see the big white letters  _Y-A-M-A_  staring back at him.

The relay shirt.

He crumples it up and throws it on the floor. He goes to kick it, but his attention is pulled to the cellphone on the carpet when the screen lights up, and a flare of promise wells up in his chest.

_“It’s not as bad as you think it is.”_

He darts over to the bed and scoops up his cellphone, tapping at the screen to read two new messages.

But it isn’t Hinata.

_Yuu: how are you feeling?_

_Yuu: do you need anything?_

Kageyama’s heart sinks, but not far.

He taps out a reply.

**Tobio: i’m fine.**

There are so many things he needs, but Yuu isn’t the one to give those things to him. Neither is Hinata, to be honest. God, he’s being so stupid. It’s no one’s fault that he’s like this.

No one’s fault but his own.

He tosses his phone on his bed, ignoring the other message that comes through.

And then he frowns, blinking at the light from the screen glowing from his bed.

It… it _could_ have been Hinata.

                _You really think so?_

That spark he felt just then, that tingle of something in his stomach.

_“It’s not as bad as you think it is.”_

His bleary eyes wander around the room; there’s still light coming through the open door and his gaze falls on the yellow scarf that’s still on his desk, the drawing of the milk box and the photo of the team he tacked to his corkboard.

He even looks back down at the crumpled shirt on his floor.

_I haven’t lost yet._

A new feeling rocks him, but he isn’t sure what to do with it; he stands there, confused, lucidity pricking at him in fleeting, icy droplets up his spine. A tentative understanding breaching the surface before dipping back below the brackish haze.

He goes to his phone.

 _No_.

No not his phone.

No. He goes back to his dresser, hurriedly pulling out some leggings and a pair of warmup pants and a long sleeve t-shirt. Get gets changed quickly. The last thing he grabs is a hoodie before snatching his shoes off the floor. He turns back and grabs his cellphone.

Just in case.

He isn’t sure what he’s doing. He has no plan. Maybe he just needs to get out, to clear his head.

To chase that glimmer of  _whatever_  that ignited inside him. A beacon to follow to maybe help him feel like himself again. He always feels better after exercise.

Yeah, that must be it. That’s all.

“Tobio?” He hears his mother call to him when he’s in the entryway tying his shoes.

“I’m going for a run,” he says as he stands. He puts his hand on the doorknob right when his dad appears from around the corner.

“It’s freezing out,” he says, brow furrowed.

“Missed practice,” Kageyama explains quickly. “I won’t be long.”

“Be careful,” his father says, hesitating before turning away. “Do you have your phone?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly.

The next thing he feels is the icy chill of the night air on his face.

And only then, with the bite of the wind stinging his wet cheeks, does he realize how hard he’s been crying.

 

* * *

 

Tides of freezing air encroach on Kageyama’s aching lungs; the top of each breath drives with it a heavy footfall on damp asphalt. He’s only fallen twice, each time paired with a hissing grit of teeth and a sob of determination when he rose to his feet and kept running. It hasn’t snowed in days, but the spirit of January has left the air raw and still, the side of the streets paved with ice where the salt doesn’t reach.  He has no destination in mind, nothing in his heart to map his way through the cold, silent streets.

               _Liar._

He just needs to run.

He just needs to run.

The woods press in on either side of him as he powers up the sloped street, ignoring the screaming protest of his muscles. He has no idea how many miles he’s run but it feels like a hundred. A thousand. Ten fucking million and yet it’s nowhere near enough. He lost feeling in his hands at mile fifty; his arm stopped aching at hour nine—hour fucking five hundred. He’s numb everywhere except the cruelest places that keep demanding he push onward, run farther, to just _keep going_. Tormenting him with the promise of relief if he would just _keep running_ that maybe this pain will all go away. If he can just hang on a little longer he’ll find a way back from this loneliness—

He stops suddenly, limbs stiffening while he slows his gate and wheezes in the frigid air. He can’t even feel the phone in his hand or when he presses it to his frozen ear, but he can hear the line buzzing and then the click of an answer and then—

“H-hello?”

“Open—your door.”

“Huh?”

“I said—“ Kageyama gulps in the harsh air, leaning a hand down onto his knee while he struggles hard to catch his breath in the glow of a familiar porch light. “Your front—front door—come to the— _fuck—“_ He lags off on a choked sob, lungs burning with the promise of oxygen if he would just _shut the fuck up for a second_. He grips the phone so tightly his arm shakes. He can breathe later. “Please—”

“Kageyama?” Hinata asks quietly, voice thick and rough with sleep and confusion and something else that Kageyama feels so deep inside that he swears he’s speaking to himself.

Maybe he is. Maybe he’s snapped.

Maybe this is insanity.

But when Hinata says his name again and asks him what’s wrong there’s no question in his mind that he hasn’t lost it. That he’s standing in front of Hinata’s house in the freezing cold and somehow, fucking _somehow_ , he managed to get him on the phone because the warmth in Hinata’s hushed voice is unmistakable despite what Kageyama put him through. The puzzled, genuine concern is nothing that Kageyama could conjure up within himself and so he knows he’s talking to the boy he loves because that _voice_ , that fucking _voice_. Even after everything that happened today—

_Wait._

No it wasn’t even today. It was yesterday.

Yesterday?

He’s losing days.

Time doesn’t stand still.

               _Was it really yesterday?_

“Please—“Kageyama forces out, hoarse and breathless. “Come—to the door.”

There’s a rustling, and then Kageyama sees a soft light click on in a second-floor window. He feels that rush again – that… that _inkling_ of whatever he felt back in his bedroom when his phone lit up on his floor in that half-second he thought that it could have been Hinata reaching out to him. Maybe it’s hope, because it’s floaty and light in his chest but it’s so wrought with bitter _panic_ that he can’t identify the feeling. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t care. But it’s the light. It’s the fucking _light—_

“Are you—Kageyama, what are you talking about?”

“Hinata—”

“Do you know what time it is?”

“No.” the exhausted setter straightens up, staring at the lit window with his heavy breath fogging the air. “I need to talk to you.”

“We’re… we’re talking now.”

Kageyama unsteadily walks forward and quietly climbs the porch steps, letting the bedroom light slip from his view. He almost mourns the loss. “Come down and talk to me. _Please—”_

“Wait… are you _here_!?” Hinata hisses.

“Yes, you idiot!” Kageyama growls back into the phone. “Open your fucking door!”

There’s one more batch of rustling and then the line goes dead. Kageyama pulls the phone away from his face and stares at it, his stomach all knotted up and fresh tears of frustration and heartache burn his eyes. He _had_ to call him an idiot.

               _You deserve this_

_I didn’t mean it._

               _What the hell is wrong with you?_

_I swear, I didn’t—_

“What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Kageyama jolts when Hinata wrenches the door open in front of his face; his voice is a pinched, angry whisper and his face is drawn down into a scowl – but then his eyes get ridiculously wide when they rake anxiously over Kageyama. He barely has time to blink at the figure in the doorway before Hinata reaches out from the blanket that he’s all wrapped up in and grabs at the front of the setter’s sweatshirt, roughly pulling him into the blessed heat of the house.

“What the actual hell is wrong with you?” Hinata yell-whispers again once Kageyama is inside. He closes the door quietly and turns on a dim light, illuminating his own tear-weathered face and the small entryway around them. “It’s freezing outside! Are you insane!? How did you even get here!?”

“ _Ran_ —” Kageyama tries to say, but the word catches in his throat. He tries again. “I ran.”

Hinata blinks up at him, incredulous and open-mouthed, and tightens the blanket that’s wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. After several seconds he looks away.

It’s cute in the most heartbreaking way imaginable, and Kageyama has to physically stop himself from chastising him for just fucking _looking like that_ because it’s not fucking _fair._ He bites his frozen lip and squeezes his hands into fists when he drops his eyes to the floor.

_You can’t do this to me, dumbass._

_He’s not doing anything to you._

_Selfish asshole._

_Look what you did to him._

“I didn’t—” _mean it like that._

He clenches his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut after he feels Hinata’s gaze snap back to him. He didn’t mean to speak.

               _You did, though_.

“You didn’t what?” Hinata asks.

_I shouldn’t have yelled at you._

But Kageyama just keeps his eyes shut. And then he starts to shake – probably from the cold, honestly. From that in-between state of frozen limbs and the promise of a warm home; that moment when your body starts to unclench itself from the throes of winter and your blood unfurls, forgets to take its time, rushing too quickly to bring your skin back to life while your teeth start to rattle together. It stings his fingers and makes his toes burn. But it’s nothing compared to the ache of heady guilt swelling beneath his ribs.

_I should have told you._

_What good would that have done?_

_You’re important to me, too._

               _Who would want that?_

_But he said—_

_He doesn’t—_

“want that—”

“What?” Hinata asks in an annoyed whisper. Kageyama can hear the soft pad of a socked foot taking a step forward, the creak of floorboards beneath a shift in weight. “Want what? You’re not making any sense.”

_I wanted you to tell me that you loved me._

“I wanted—“

_it to be different._

_“_ I thought—”

_I would have had a chance to tell you_

“—everything.”

“A-are you okay—”

“I don’t know what I’m doing here!” Kageyama blurts, jerking his head up. He sucks in a stuttered breath and looks off to the side, curling his fingers into his palms at his sides and straightening them again as the warmth from Hinata’s house starts to bleed into his bones.

“That makes two of us.” Hinata sniffs. Kageyama chances a look back at the other boy and watches him rub at his nose with the blanket, his red-rimmed eyes watching Kageyama’s stiff fingers trying to regain feeling. “Oh…” Hinata says suddenly, blinking and shaking his head as if waking from a trance, “oh my god! Here—” he steps forward, sniffing and unwinding the blanket from around his shoulders—

“No,” Kageyama growls and takes a sharp step backwards and into the wall of the entryway, holding his hands up defensively. “Don’t. I don’t want that.”

“But…” Hinata pauses in reaching the blanket towards the trembling setter, expression puzzled. “You’re shaking.”

“I don’t want it.”

Hinata’s fists clench into the fabric, his tired eyes jumping from the blanket to Kageyama, who is desperately trying to get his goddamn body to stop shivering. He doesn’t need Hinata to be concerned for him on top of everything else he’s probably feeling.

But then Hinata’s face twists up, pain flickering over and dissolving into anger and he throws the blanket to the side and stomps his foot.  “Fine then! I hope you f-freeze—“ his voice cracks and he swipes at his eyes, but he doesn’t look away from Kageyama.

But Kageyama has to. He has to look away.  Because Hinata is crying again. It isn’t hard, body-breaking sobbing, but rather it’s almost completely silent with tears just pouring from his eyes and over his red cheeks.

He isn’t sure which is more heartbreaking.

“I thought you said you needed to talk to me,” Hinata says, lifting his chin bravely and crossing his arms over his chest.

 _“_ I… I do,” Kageyama says, hesitating in looking back at the other boy. He sighs, then, and rubs his hands over his face. When he drops it them, Hinata is frozen there, mouth agape, eyes wide and horrified and glancing rapidly from hand to shredded, bloody hand.

“What happened?” Hinata asks softly of the setter’s scabbed-over knuckles, meeting Kageyama’s gaze again. And it’s barely noticeable, but Kageyama notices it all the same – Hinata starts to reach for him. For his hand. And it’s only an inch. But he catches himself. And, wisely, he draws it back.

But without missing a beat, without even giving the words a moment’s thought, Kageyama fires back:

“You did.”

Hinata’s head jerks up and Kageyama swallows at the flash of anger raging in that glare. But then the ferocity slips from those brown eyes to be replaced by utter exhaustion. His whole body withers with it – shoulders slumping and head hanging down as he rubs at an eye with the heel of his hand.

Gradually, his strength returns.

“Why, um… why did you come here.” It’s a statement to the floor rather than a question to Kageyama.

“I don’t—“

“Don’t you dare say you don’t know!” Hinata hisses with that angry glint back in his watering eyes. But it dissolves again, smothered by the weight of so much sadness. He breathes a hard sob into his hands and whimpers, “don’t you dare do that to me.”

Kageyama licks his lips. He has no idea what he wants to say, but he has to speak – he _has to._

But, fuck, if he were good at speaking then he wouldn’t be in this horrible situation in the first place.

 _You don’t understand_.

Or, who knows, maybe it would be worse.

_Just let me explain._

But watching Hinata standing there, openly weeping into his palms, it’s hard to imagine anything worse than this. The word _pitiful_ ticks through his head, but it’s not aimed at Hinata.

“Kageyama…”

He shouldn’t _be_ there.

_I never meant to hurt you._

No. No he _should_ be – he _has_ to be. He has to at least _try_ to explain himself and he _could_ if he could just take a second to get his thoughts in order then _maybe—_

“I’m tired,” Hinata chokes, lowering his hands before rubbing the back of his arm over his face. “I’m so… _so_ tired…”

_But that wasn’t how it was supposed to be._

“A-and I…” Hinata sniffs, blinking rapidly and off to the side. “I think I should be the one t-talking to you.”

_No. No, You haven’t done anything wrong._

Kageyama shakes his head. He knows that he should just _say_ these things that are rolling through his mind and so he tries,

“You haven’t—” _ever done anything wrong_.

“I messed up,” Hinata says quietly.

_No, you didn’t._

               _He did._

_He tried to get close to you._

“You—"

“Please don’t interrupt me, Kageyama,” Hinata says firmly, looking back at the setter.

 _“_ But—“

“Yesterday was a mistake!” Hinata says in a rush. He sniffs again. “A… a lapse in judgement. I was just… I was so… _frustrated—"_

“Hinata—” Kageyama blurts out, taking a step forward. But—

“I’m not ashamed!” The redhead interrupts sharply. And Kageyama takes that step back.

“I’m not… I mean, I’m _sorry..._ I’m sorry that I did that to you. But…” Hinata presses his lips into a hard line, pausing, and raising his face to the ceiling. But then he grits his teeth and looks back down, locking eyes with Kageyama as he takes a step forward and winds his trembling fist into his shirt above his own heart. “But I’m not sorry for being this way!”

Kageyama can do nothing except regard Hinata with wide eyes. He has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about or what _way_ Hinata is referring to. Did he miss something? Forget something?

               _He shouldn’t have those feelings for you._

_He shouldn’t, but why—_

“do you—”

“Do I what?”

Kageyama has to get a hold of himself. He’s having trouble keeping his thoughts in order because all this pain is muddling everything up – his pain, Hinata’s pain, the horrible guilt and the terrible fear that he’ll say something wrong but the urgent _need_ to say the things that are swirling and churning and half-brewing inside his head. His brain is like a broken centrifuge on high, snagging pieces of ideas and kicking them up against the sides of his skull and flinging slivers of speech out of his mouth before he can call them back.

He doesn’t understand—

“It’s okay,” Hinata continues, voice thick, “that I’m like this.” He hiccups. “But I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have dragged you into it. It was wrong… disgusting and wrong for me to do that to someone like you—”

_I don’t know what you’re talking about._

_I don’t know what you’re talking about._

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Kageyama heaves, devastation cloaking the forefront of his mind; it’s all consuming, a vengeful wrath bellowing in his soul. He doesn’t understand. He just doesn’t fucking _understand—_

“ _Keep your voice down!_ ” There’s a cold bite to Hinata’s voice, even in the hiss of a whisper. His face twists in anguish and he brings an arm up, tucking his grief into the crook of his elbow. He stomps his foot in frustration and whimpers,

“I miss being happy.”

Kageyama feels that like a razor through his gut. Cold and sharp and deadly.

“I miss feeling like _myself_ ,” Hinata continues, dropping his arm and sniffling down at the floor. “I started to think that I couldn’t feel that way without you there with me,” the saddest brown eyes rise, “but it’s too hard, Kageyama—”

“I know—”

“ _What do you mean_ _you know_?” Hinata hisses with such venom that Kageyama snaps his mouth shut.

But Kageyama wants to go to him when his eyes soften again. He wants to cradle him in his arms and cry with him and spend the rest of fucking eternity taking all his pain away. Because _that_ he understands – _that_ he knows so well because he feels it, too. What it’s like to feel broken without Hinata—

But he can’t.

So he doesn’t.

If he were a better person, he would.

But he’s not.

So he fucking _doesn’t._

“When, um,” Hinata wipes his nose with the back of his wrist, “when we first met… in high school, I mean. When we met again it was like… you gave me this _thing_ that I was looking for. You were the teammate that I needed to make volleyball what I knew it was supposed to be like. Fun and… and it was hard at times, especially in the beginning. But also, like, really _really_ wonderful.”

A great pressure wells up inside Kageyama while he watches Hinata talk. It’s stifling, choking, squeezing his heart so tightly he wishes it would stop beating. Because something inside his scrambled brain is raising the alarm. He can’t hear the rest of this. He _can’t—_

“You pushed me so hard to be… what you needed me to be. What _I_ needed to be and… I… I didn’t know what those feelings were until I talked to Tanaka and Nishinoya the other day, but it was like... you were the other h-half of… of me, because _you_ needed someone who would be there no matter what... and it felt so _good_ to play with you. And, yeah, the other guys were amazing, too. But you… you were at the center of it. Like this… “ he gestures vaguely in the air, “ _tower_ , or something, of all this talent and strength… but then I started to… I um… t-things got… complicated…” Hinata deflates, shaking his head and giving a small, sad smile. “I mean, I must have felt something like _hope_ , right? Hanging on this long?” He takes a step backwards and sags into the wall opposite Kageyama and puts the heels of his hands over his eyes. “But it hurt… it hurt all the time. I hurt _all the time,_ Kageyama.” His voice gets high and wobbly and he cries softly into his hands.

And all Kageyama can do is watch.

“B-but I—” Hinata continues, chest rattling on every inhale, “I kept _hoping_ that… that maybe tomorrow would be different. I always told myself that tomorrow there might be something… s-something different... t-that… that I… I-I— _shit_ —” he loses it – he can’t speak through the heft of his sorrow, and it lasts a full agonizing minute of Kageyama just standing there… fucking _watching_ – immobile and mute. And when Hinata finally wipes his eyes, he looks at Kageyama. And he says,

“and I _liked_ it.”

Kageyama swallows around the lump in his throat. And he parts his lips, daring to ask—

“I _liked_ it, Kageyama,” Hinata continues before the setter can speak. “I liked how much it hurt.” He laughs to himself, humorless and beaten. “How messed up is that.”

               _He liked how much you hurt him._

               _You really broke him._

“And maybe that was it, you know?” Hinata asks ambiguously, mostly to himself. “Maybe it wasn’t that I was hoping for anything… but it was that I liked how much you hurt me. Because it’s how… it’s how we _were_. And I knew… that I could have _stopped_ it all at any time, but I just _didn’t_ because it _felt good_.”

Kageyama’s heart freezes in his chest, and all those swirling thoughts suddenly converge in a single, sharp pinprick of crystal clarity. “Stopped…” his voice crackles, “stopped what?”

“This,” Hinata says, but it sounds almost like a question in the way his tone rises at the end, his head cocking to the side and brow pinching.

“No… no wait—” Kageyama puts his hands over his face again, fingers pressing against his eyes to stop the world from spinning. “Just… wait—”

“I mean, what even is my life anymore?” Hinata asks. “It was supposed to be all about volleyball, right? And then I met you and I thought that… that’s all it would be. I thought it could be something _amazing,_ but—”

“Please,” Kageyama moves a hand from his face to hold up to Hinata, begging him to stop, but he won’t open his eyes. Everything is spiraling. Whirling. He can’t look at him. “W-wait a second—”

“I would do it all over again if I could,” Hinata interrupts softly. “The same way. Everything. I’d feel it all over again in the exact same way—”

“Hinata—”

“But it has to stop now.”

“Stop—”

“I’ll always be your teammate, Kageyama,” Hinata presses on, his voice so deep and graveled with grief it’s almost unrecognizable. “I’ll always be there to receive your tosses, no matter what. That’ll never change.”

But it’s in the intentions of that voice that make Kageyama question whether this boy – this _person_ – is really the same Hinata he’s known all along.

Because Hinata wouldn’t be doing this.

               _He would._

Hinata wouldn’t be saying this.

               _He would._

 _He told me he wouldn’t. He_ said—

_And you believed him?_

He should have known.

No. No, he _did_ know.

He’s known all along. That’s why this all happened.

And it’s time now.

“I’ll always look up to you—”

But this isn’t why he came here.

“And you’ll always be important to me—”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

 _It’s the_ only _way it was ever supposed to be._

“But I should have listened to you at Nishinoya’s party—"

No – this isn’t _why he came here._

“But I can’t be your friend anymore, Kageyama.”

“Wait wait, just _stop!”_ Kageyama pleads, twining his fingers into his hair. He’s splitting apart at all his seams, fraying like old wires as his mind turns on him, screaming at him. He keeps his eyes screwed down, breaths coming fast and harsh while he struggles desperately to sort his thoughts. This can’t be the end. It _can’t be_.

He was supposed to fix things.

It was supposed to be better.

It was all supposed to be _over._

               _It is over._

 _Not like_ this!

He’s floundering, mouth working around all the things he wants to say but he knows he shouldn’t. All the things he’s kept himself from saying these past months come floating through him like debris in a flood as the levies crack and split.

“I didn’t mean—” _to hurt you._

“—I—” _love you more than_

“—you—” _could ever understand. Please_

“—don’t—” _do this._ _I need_

“—you—”

“Holy shit,” Hinata hisses, throwing up his hands, “what the hell is wrong with you? Speak sentences, you idiot!”

               _He’s leaving you._

_He doesn’t want you anymore._

_Where am I_

_“—_ supposed to _—” go?_

“What—”

_am I supposed to do without you?_

“Are you having a stroke?” Hinata asks, expression unmistakably concerned when Kageyama pries his eyes open and drops his arms to clench his fists at his sides as hot, angry tears burn a trail down his cold cheeks. He grits his teeth, and with all the energy he can summon he nets all those thoughts from the torrent, bundling them together and wringing out the mess and blurts,

“It wasn’t supposed to be that way!”      

Hinata blinks. He blinks again. “What wasn’t?”

That centrifuge kicks on again; Kageyama’s brain is whirling, whipping around every explanation, every word, every fucking syllable he wishes now and wishes he could have ever uttered to Hinata in this life and in others and how could he ever explain it all to that _face_ looking at him so worriedly as he crumbles apart, succumbing to the weight of all his self-hatred, all the guilt and anger and loneliness that the motors and gears churn around his head. Images of Hinata laughing and smiling and waving to him with all that excitement in his eyes break off in the tumult and are slung into the blackened void of his mind, cast off from his memories like relics torn from weathered velcro.

 _Everything._ He thinks. _It was all supposed to be different. I should have told you in the beginning. I should have_ told you—

“What wasn’t supposed to be that way, Kageyama?” Hinata asks again, annoyance rising in his concerned voice.

 _Our first kiss was supposed to be warm and gentle and perfect and you were supposed to cry but not because you were sad and we were supposed to cry_ together _and it was supposed to be so much_ more—

Kageyama gulps and sucks in a breath. “It wasn’t…” _no you can’t say that. You can’t blame him like that. But he has to know. He has to know you’ve hoped thought_ dreamt _about it, so say it. Fucking SAY IT—_

He feels himself becoming frantic, triggered to explode into a million pieces and he just wants it all to stop. For it all to just be _quiet_ so he can think – so he can fucking _think for a second._

 _My heart hurts, Hinata. My brain hurts. My body hurts. My soul_ hurts _because of all that I’ve done to you._

He can tell him that.

Kageyama licks his lips, dry and cracked from the rush of his panicked breath over the delicate skin. “My—” he starts.

But, really, what good will _that_ do. What good will telling him that do? Kageyama just needs this all to be over now. He just needs to rest. The world feels like it’s spinning beneath him and he’s hurling through the air like a misfired bullet. He’s tired, too, Hinata, he’s so, _so_ tired—

_Our first kiss, Hinata._

_Our first kiss._

_Our first kiss._

_Our—_

“—first kiss.”

He…

shut his eyes again, somewhere along the way. He leaves them closed for several precarious breaths that he wills into his lungs.

He said it.

He said it.

And there’s ice water in his veins as he steeps in the weighty silence.

He said it.

It’s… it’s over.

...

Isn’t it? Does Hinata understand now? Can he look? Is it over?

But somehow he doesn’t feel lighter. He doesn’t feel _better._

He doesn’t feel… _okay._

Because it’s been too long. Hinata hasn’t said a word. Kageyama can’t even hear him breathe. If he were confused, Kageyama should have heard at least a _huh?_ or some characteristic noise of wonder, but there’s absolutely nothing. No stammering of shock or sputtering of confusion.

There’s just nothing.

He cracks his eyes.

And what’s looking back at him will haunt him till the day he dies.

               _What did you do._

_What did I do?_

He finds himself longing for the fangs of winter just beyond the door. The chill outside is no match for the stony, frigid glare aimed his way from brown eyes icing over with an unrecognizable loathing.

Hinata lowers his face and narrows his eyes. “What did you say.” His voice flows like poison off his tongue.

“I…” Kageyama swallows nervously, eyes darting from side to side. What did he say. What did he _really_ say? “I don’t know—”

And then a sharp, ugly laugh bursts from Hinata’s lips – twisted and terrifying and nothing like Kageyama has ever heard from him before. The setter is so taken aback by it that he presses himself back into the wall, watching in horror as Hinata slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle the terrible sound.

But there’s nothing humorous reflected in those noxious eyes.

“Your first—,” Hinata chokes out into his hand in the stuttered breaks in his cackling, “your first _what!?”_ He doubles over, clutching his stomach as he shudders with something that Kageyama can’t identify – laughter or crying, it’s godawful whatever it is, and Kageyama’s fingers crawl up the sides of his face, pressing against his temples in distress as he watches.

“I said—I told you—I said _all_ of that to you,” Hinata babbles in his hysteria, straightening up and wiping his dripping eyes – once with one hand and then the other, “I poured my heart out to you and you… you tell me _that_ —” he peels off with that soul-shredding laughter again, pressing a hand to his forehead and raising his face to the ceiling. And that’s when he starts to cry again. It’s unmistakable, now; no question that what’s trembling his hands and chest is forceful sobbing.

Kageyama has no idea what happened. He’s dumbstruck with confusion – literally. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. There are just no words because he doesn’t even know what he’s looking at. What happened. What he said to make Hinata lose his fucking mind like this.

But then Hinata catches his breath and drops his face to lock eyes with the setter, rooting him to the floor with their glowing rancor. And he says,

“I’m so… _so_ sorry to have robbed you of your _precious_ first kiss, _Kageyama_.”

Kageyama hates how he says his name. It’s as if the word itself septic. Reviled.

“I never realized you were such a blushing little girl.”

Blue eyes widen in fear, and Kageyama shakes his head frantically. He misunderstood. He _misunderstood—_

“No! No, no that wasn’t—”

“Your first kiss,” Hinata spits, right before the awful giggling picks up again. He has to steady himself against the wall when he bends double again, vicious, watery breaths pulled in hard to fuel the mania in his laughter. “That’s—that’s _hysterical!”_

Kageyama waves his hands in front of him in panic. “That’s not what I—”

The abrupt end to the laughter startles Kageyama into silence. And then,

“Get out of my house, Kageyama.”

Hinata is still bent over, arm wrapped around his middle and hand pressed against the wall.

Oh no… oh no, oh _god_ _no_ – he can’t leave. He has to fix it he was supposed to _fix it_ —

Kageyama takes two quick steps forward. “W-wait, no—”

He can still fix it.

He can still fix it.

“Get _out_ of my _house_ ,” Hinata snarls, low and dangerous, head snapping over to Kageyama and stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t make me wake up my family.”

This is all wrong. It’s all so wrong because he’s _trying_ he’s finally _trying_ and he doesn’t have it in him to try again it has to be now – it has to be _now—_

Kageyama feels like he’s going to vomit. He’s scared – terrified. How could this have gone so wrong. How could Hinata have misunderstood so completely that he feels his whole life slipping through his shaking fingers.

He can’t do this again. This is it. His last chance. He’ll never be able to do this again if—

He takes two more panicked steps to reach for Hinata, and when his hand grazes Hinata’s shoulder, the faintest flicker of bliss crosses the redhead’s face before anguish reclaims him, and then—

“ _NO!”_ Hinata wheels on Kageyama, straightening up and smacking his hand. “ _Don’t EVER touch me again.”_

Fresh tears well up into Kageyama’s eyes – from the sting of the hit and from fear and desperation and confusion. “But—”

“Forget what I said,” Hinata continues to growl as Kageyama’s world shatters around him. “You’re… you’re _cruel._ ”

               _You fucked up._

“You’re _inhuman_.”

               _A monster._

“Forget _everything_ I said.”

               _You’re not important to him._

     “You’re not important to me.”

               _How could you be?_

     “How could you be?”

               _He hates you._

     “I hate you, Kageyama”

               _You fucked up._

               _YOU FUCKED UP._

“Get out of my house!” Hinata snarls as he pulls open the door and then snags Kageyama’s shirt in both shaking fists. “Get out. Get _OUT!”_

“Hinata WAIT— _p-please!”_ Kageyama sputters at that kind face pinched up in so much anger, red with hate and fury as he’s shoved towards the open door.

               _He hates you_.

_HE HATES YOU._

“You don’t understand!” Kageyama sobs. “Please—y-you—you don’t _understand._ ”

“Get out, GET OUT!” Hinata is yelling now.

“I just need to think—” Kageyama clutches desperately at the fists in his shirt. His heart beating a mile a minute in panic.

“I’m done listening to you,” Hinata hisses, pushing and pushing and pushing. “Get OUT.”

A light turns on somewhere in the house behind Hinata and Kageyama can hear another voice cut through their struggle but—

_He hates you._

_It’s over._

_He hates you._

_It’s over._

_IT’S OVER._

Kageyama can hear himself yelling, too, sobbing and pleading with Hinata as he just keeps shoving him backwards but Kageyama just needs to think, please _please_ just let him think for a second and he can fix all of this. He can fix all of it if it’s just quiet for a second. Just for one second _please_ make it all stop. Please, Hinata, stop yelling and let him think because it’s too loud—

It’s all too loud—

_You fucked up._

“Please let me explain—”

“GET OUT!”

“I Just need a second—”

“I DON’T WANT YOU HERE!”

_You fucked up._

“Please stop yelling—”

               _He hates you._

“GET OUT.”

“Shouyou!?”

_It’s loud._

“Don’t do this—”

_It’s over._

“GET OUT.”

_“Think of it as a goodbye.”_

“Just let me—”

“Shouyou! Honey—”

_“You hurt me all the time.”_

“I made a mistake!—”

“OUT—”

_“You could do anything to me.”_

“Tobio—Shouyou, stop—"

_“I’ll always forgive you, Kageyama.”_

_It’s too loud._

_“Guess I like you more.”_

“Let me fix it!—”

_“Think of it as a goodbye.”_

“NO GET OUT—”

_“I don’t like you.”_

“Boys, please—”

_“I love you, Kageyama.”_

_It’s all too loud._

“Hinata!—”

“GET OUT—"

_“I’m so proud of you.”_

“OUT—"

_“I really miss you.”_

“GET OUT—"

_“Think of it as a goodbye.”_

_It’s loud._

_It’s loud._

_“I love you.”_

_Its loud._

_It’s loud._

_It’s loud._

_It’s ALL TOO LOUD._

“No, no, please just _WAIT—"_

.

.

.

.

And then it’s quiet.

 

 

His breath billows out of him in the dark and the cold as he blinks at the closed door. The slam still ringing in his ears.

There’s no sound coming from the other side of it. No voices. No crying.

On the porch, Kageyama is alone.

He’s alone.

Time doesn’t stand still.

Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he turns away and walks robotically towards the steps.

Time doesn’t stand still.

Kageyama can attest to that.

But it lingers. And it taunts. It jeers as it swells into the folds of Kageyama’s mind, expanding into the dark spaces that rest there. Stretching every second into the blackest expanse as he once again reaches the cold, empty street.

* * *

 

Hinata closes the door to his room quietly and pads over the carpet to dig his phone from the rumpled sheets of his bed and scrolls quickly through his contacts.

He told his parents he’ll explain in the morning and he apologized to Natsu for scaring her. But it’s over now. He’ll explain in the morning.

But right now he just needs to sleep.

But first—

He sinks down onto the edge of the bed when he puts the device to his ear. Stoic. Calm. He’s weathered the storm.

“Nishinoya,” he says when the line clicks. His voice isn’t as rough and scaled with grief as he thought it would be, but still—

“Yeah,” he says in response after Noya speaks, sniffling. “I’m… I’ll be okay. Really—” he pauses, “—it’s… yeah… I’ll explain everything tomorrow… I know, I know, it’s late, I’m sorry. But I…” he swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut as he sucks in a deep breath,

“I need a favor.”

* * *

 

Kageyama slips his hands into his pockets as he walks, watching the ground beneath him.

It’s the only way he knows the earth is still there. The only world that’s shattered is his own.

And it’s quiet.

The blackness of memories drift in his mind, though he tries to project just a little of that energy into the future. To maybe surpass all this heartache and see a light at the end of the tunnel… a light.

_Hinata._

But all the paths he might have traversed with Hinata seem to have vanished – though not because they’ve disappeared, but because they were never there.

It’s not that Kageyama has ever believed in fate, but—

He doubles over suddenly, grabbing at his stomach as he purges his insides all over the side of the road.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling no more empty than he had just moments ago. He keeps walking.

 _It’s okay_. He says to himself. _You’re okay. You’ll be okay._

It’s okay. Really. It’s okay.

               _Liar._

He should just go home. He needs to sleep. He needs rest. He needs—

_Hinata._

But it’s okay.

 _It’s okay_ , he repeats to himself. His mantra when he’s always felt his worst. It will all be okay. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day… but… but it will be _okay._

They’ve been here before. They’ve fought. And they’ve _fought._

This is no different. He can fix this.

Denial occupies him like salt in the sea.

Buoying. But toxic.

He cries quietly into the still night. How did he even get here.

It just doesn’t make any sense. No two people have ever been less alike, yet he still felt bound to him. Where he was anger and malice, Hinata was happiness and light. Hinata was his balance. His counter.

His sun on the darkest of days.

But Kageyama was afraid.

He shakes his head. He shakes it again. Maybe if he shakes himself hard enough he’ll shake the past tense out of those words.

Because it’s not over _._

It’s not too late.

It’s not _over._

               _It’s over._

He may not be effective in his speech but maybe if he found a way to _show_ him—

Kageyama can show him that he can change. He just needs that chance.

_Because it’s not too late._

_It’s too late._

Yeah… yeah – it’s _not_ too late. It can’t be.

He just has to try.

Because what is darkness if there is no light?

He can overcome this… _thing_ inside him.

And where words fail him, as they will, he will press on. He’ll show Hinata the love buried inside of him – that he sees day in and day out that’s just begging for escape. He’ll do it.

There’s still hope.

               _You don’t believe that._

He can see it – the happiness. It’s always been there for him if only he could reach it.

It’s not too late.

It’s not too late.

Then why has his heart ceased to beat.

He’s afraid, Hinata.

.

.

He’s running again.

His teeth clench hard in his mouth as images of Hinata’s wrath flash like a cruel film in the back of his mind, shards splintering off to pierce his flesh in the bitter cold. But he’ll take it away. He’ll take all that anger away.

Just let him try, Hinata.

But right now he just needs to feel his heart beat.

He remembers the promise of the summer – last summer. And if feels like a lifetime ago. When Hinata’s feelings first started showing in his face. The way he’d gaze longingly after Kageyama on the court, how he would stare at his hands or peek at him out of the corner of his eye during lunch. How Hinata would turn beet red when they would change together in the club room.

The dumbass thought he was being discreet.  

Kageyama remembers the lift behind that realization, how each day brought with it this mystical optimism. How Kageyama began to seek out ways to touch him, reasons and excuses just to see that pink in his smiling cheeks. That little fluster to his manner.

And, obviously, because nothing felt as good to him as Hinata’s warmth at his fingertips.

But he remembers the mistakes.

_No. No, don’t think about those._

His eyelids squeeze to keep those memories at bay.

But they’re there – and they’re _loud_.

That day Hinata first tried to kiss him.

               _Remember what you did?_

That time in the tent.

               _How could you forget?_

On the couch in Tanaka’s living room.

               _And still he forgave you._

All that effort, all that pain and energy expended in vain.

He got here because he was _afraid._

He was _afraid_ , Hinata.

But he can change.

               _No you can’t._

And maybe he’ll take this night and add it to the list of regrets, and he’ll wrap everything up in a neat little package and place it at Hinata’s feet. He’ll beg for forgiveness. He’ll beg for peace. He’ll carve himself open and lay his heart bare as the only gift he can offer.

If only it would start fucking _beating_.

And he’ll promise to spend the rest of his days making up for all the things he’s done.

For letting the monster inside him destroy everything.

Knowing damn well that he doesn’t deserve forgiveness but he _needs it_ , Hinata. He needs it because they were supposed to have _more_ – there was supposed to be a _future_.

And maybe in the future they’d have a list. A silly little list of things that Hinata concocted meant as a joke to live out their years together; they’d tick off items at every anniversary, every birthday, every fucking Thursday afternoon when Kageyama would come home from work and scoot up close to Hinata on their comfy couch, and Hinata would throw his arms around Kageyama’s neck and Kageyama would whisper into his ear, _I love you, Shouyou_ – and Hinata would look at him and smile and say, _I think that’s worth a checkmark –_ and he’d crack open that notebook, all worn and torn, doodles in the margins of volleyballs and pizza and listed there would be all the ways Kageyama ever hurt him – and Hinata didn’t make the list out of spite, but as a way to tell Kageyama that _it’s okay_ and _I forgive you_ and _see how silly this is?_ and _if you want to make it up to me let me do it with you_ as the years go by and they’d check off things like _‘Throwing Hinata in Gym’_ and _‘Breaking Hinata’s Fingers (except it wasn’t even my fault)’_ and Kageyama always scribbled out that last part, but every time they open the book it’s written again in fresh ink in Hinata’s sloppy writing – an inside joke upon an inside joke – and over the years Hinata adds little items here and there, like _Being a Butt_ and _Using All the Hot Water_ and _Not Telling Shouyou He’s the Best_ and Hinata would have turned all that bitter regret into something good and happy and they’d carry the past with them not as a burden, but as a piece of the story – _their_ story – that got them to where they always needed to be and they’d laugh about it and kiss and…

And…   

He’ll cut out his heart.

               _No one would want it._

Rip it from his body.

               _It’s too late._

Free it from this cage.

               _It’s too late._

Let a piece of him live on with Hinata.

_It’s not too late._

It’s all he has to offer.

 _It’s not too late_.

It’s all that’s left of him.

_It’s not too late!_

So then why won’t it _BEAT—_

Everything is loud again. There’s static crackling in the air and a sharp shrill ringing sound that he just can’t escape. He’s panting, lungs breathing on barbed wire and bits of glass as the crescendo of loathing drives him faster into the night. Faster

and faster

               _It’s over._

and faster

               _It’s over._

He’s running to pump his blood, to feel his heartbeat, to outrun the pain.

To outrun reality.

               _It’s over._

To outrun the _NOISE—_

He skids to a halt – wheezing, gulping in air as his fingers twist up into his sweaty hair and tears drip endlessly down his cheeks and he looks towards the shadow of the forest beside the winding mountain road—           

But light can always dim. Blackness always prevails.

_I can’t change._

And he launches forward into the tree line.

He’s running again. Full speed. Tripping through the trees and numb with fear and despair. Stumbling haphazardly as low limbs claw at his face but he can’t stop. He can’t stop. Because the trees are racing by him, the world is turning without him, leaving him unwanted. Left behind. This is his punishment and he can’t stop.

Sharp branches prick at his skin and soon he can’t tell if the warmth on his cheeks is from blood or tears but he doesn’t care. He longs for amnesia. To start over again. To leave himself and all the ways he is behind, and fuck, without Hinata he might get his wish because he doesn’t remember how to be – how to face the world as himself without someone to show him that he’s _okay_ like this – that he’s _loved_ and wanted and cared for and he’s unraveling. He’s unraveled. All his threads shredded and scattered into the winter winds. He wants to be safe. He wants to be warm. He wants to be understood and loved and—

And—

And—

_And I’ll never have it._

_“I hate you, Kageyama.”_

And he bursts from the trees and his sharp knees hit the pavement and his hands shake as they claw at the wet ground and the air is filled with a white light and the screaming screech of tires and a pleading guttural wail of agony—   

.

.

.

.

.

.

..

..

..

_“…yama…”_

_.._

_.._

_.._

“ _Kageyama.”_

_.._

_.._

_.._

“Kageyama.

.

.

.

“Hey!”

A voice rings out when the world fades back in. “Hey, Kageyama! What the hell are you doing?”

Kageyama slowly turns his head, raising a hand to shield himself from the blinding beams of headlights.

“You’re lucky it was me, you know!” Nishinoya’s deep voice calls from somewhere beyond the lights. Kageyama hears the slam of a car door and then the grit of sneakers on pavement. “Who knows what shit people with shit reflexes are out here tonight! What are you even doing!? Are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

The libero’s form emerges from the dark and he steps into the light, and Kageyama doesn’t have to squint anymore as a shadow falls over him. He’s breathing heavily, still, when he drops his hand. He lowers his gaze back to the ground.

“Oh… oh my god, Kageyama,” Noya says in a sudden panic as he dashes over to Kageyama. He drops to his knees in front of him and grabs Kageyama’s trembling shoulders roughly. “You,” he swallows thickly, “you _weren’t_ trying to kill yourself, were you!?”

He wasn’t. But the setter can’t even muster a head shake. He just keeps his eyes on the ground.

“Hey… hey hey hey, Kageyama, answer me!” Nishinoya says, shaking him. “Tell me—”

“No,” Kageyama says flatly. He looks up. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

The libero nods, anxious eyes combing over Kageyama’s tear-stained face.

“Come on,” Nishinoya says softly, ducking to meet Kageyama’s gaze again when he tries to drop his eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of the street.”

Kageyama lets himself be hauled to his feet. Gravity feels too strong – the air too thick and oppressive around him. Crushing. He doubts he’d be able to get up himself.

Nishinoya opens the passenger door for him and runs around to the other side of the car, sliding into his own seat and blasting the heat before turning to the setter.

But Kageyama is just staring ahead at the dashboard. Blue eyes unblinking. Vacant.

“What happened?” Nishinoya asks, trying again to meet Kageyama’s eyes.

“Your pants are wet,” Kageyama mutters as a tear rolls down his cheek.

“What?” Nishinoya looks down at the wet patches from the road at his knees. “Huh? Wha—fuck my pants, Kageyama what the hell is going on?”

Tears continue to drip down Kageyama’s face, eyes unblinking, cheeks stinging where the wet seeps into the shallow cuts from the branches. Catatonia starts to set in. “I’m sorry,” he says flatly.

“What are you sorry for?” Noya asks, placing a kind hand to Kageyama’s shoulder again. “Tell me what happened.”

_What happened._

What happened.

What did happen?

With barely any strength to move, Kageyama raises a shaky arm to press his palm over his heart. He feels it. He feels it beating, now, but it feels foreign. And slow. Every other thud hollow. And empty. And with it the notion of hope has been rendered futile. Absurd. And if his mind should dwell on such thoughts again he would know them as nothing more than cruelties. Mirages in his desert of grief.

The bond he shared with Hinata was what kept his heart beating. But now his own blood pumps with nothing more than a fragile echo. He can’t feel him anymore.

He can’t feel Hinata anymore.

Because where Kageyama is ice, Hinata is fire. Kageyama the winter, and Hinata the summer. Night and day; dark and the light. They were meant to be. As one, they could take on the world.

As one, they were invincible.

But the forces that bound them frayed against the coarseness of Kageyama’s doubt. A fatal flaw in the design.

No. The only flaw is that Kageyama was a part of it in the first place.

But in that moment, no thoughts come to him but one:

“It’s over.”

“What?” Nishinoya asks, leaning in. “What is? What’s over?”

 “I lost him,” Kageyama rasps, voice breaking over the words. Finally he turns to look Noya in the face. It’s a kind face – concerned. Genuine.

But it’s not the same.

It has no real peace to offer. No way back. No relief from himself.

 “It’s over,” Kageyama says again as he lets the blackness consume him. It won.

It won.

And he doesn’t have the strength to fight it anymore.    

“It’s really over.”

 

_It’s really over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
>  
> 
> :D
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, no. I couldn't help myself. It's definitely NOT THE END!! But we can call it the end of Act 1 perhaps. And don’t WORRY Kageyama is really going to be okay. This was the worst for him and the apex of his terrible feelings. He’s a lot stronger than he thinks he is. I promise, you (and he) made it through the worst of it.
> 
> So. Excuse me for losing my shit over this but[@dhr0607](http://dhr0607.tumblr.com/) drew angry bby Hinata, like, an HOUR after the chapter was posted and I'm DYING. They managed to grab his image right out of my head and. [JUST. LOOK AT HIM!??? The DANGER IN THOSE EYES. So wrecked and furious and exhausted.](http://dhr0607.tumblr.com/post/168905214636) My love. My darling. Things will be okay. Just believe! Such amazing art. I don't know what I did to deserve something like this :'D
> 
> I want to give you a heads up on the next chapter. I'll probably be posting the next few chapters all at once, so if you've been following the story chapter by chapter, do not get confused! You'll see what I'm talking about when they're posted. It will make sense I swear. 
> 
> Just a fun fact: in my outline of the story, the entire last part of the chapter was just an all-cap sentence that said NISHINOYA RUNS KAGEYAMA OVER WITH HIS CAR.


	24. Chapter 24

In despair, time is not a friend.

It ambles slowly, slipping by; creeps in at small hours in the morning to rouse you from your only peace.

That’s when the dread comes. All tangled and black, with no center. No reason. But it hooks your stomach and drags into your chest to remind you. Not of anything – just that it’s there.

It’s still there.

And so you lie there until it passes. Or recedes. Just enough for you to catch the edge of the dawn; to let you know the earth is still whole – still turning. Bringing light even though you live enmeshed in shadow.

You wait.

Because the morning can't come when the sky is so black.

But let’s be honest. Most days won’t start.

 

And so you drop yourself into the world, regardless.

 


	25. Chapter 25

But still.

Somehow.

It does get easier.

No – not because he’s healing.

But the pain settles, finds groves and notches to drift into, like dust. And the ashy swirl of it floats thinner in the air.

There’s a better metaphor, probably, but Kageyama has never been good with that.

But, little by little, his breath comes easier. His body grows around the hurt and all that darkness, sealing up the cracks with blood and sweat and fewer and fewer tears as the weeks drag on. With the kindness of others.

And, eventually, seeing him every day becomes easier, too. Though he no longer has that light to guide him through the haze, just a glimpse of it is enough. To stand on the court with him, to know he exists in the world is enough. Kageyama still gets to toss to him. And that’s enough.

It’s enough.

It’s all he can have.

He’ll treasure that. He’ll be grateful.

.

And as the seasons change, the weeks go by, things fall back into place, as they do.

.

It still hurts – it does. But slowly it morphs into something manageable. For both of them, and for the team. They even start to talk again.

.

It’s not the same. But it’s enough.

.

But every day is a little brighter.

He learns to shake the need for isolation and he starts to enjoy the company of others. He spends more and more time with other members of the team – Nishinoya and Tanaka and Yuu. He starts walking the rest of the way home with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, after Hinata peels from the group at his corner and rides off.

Yeah. At first they tend to each other in small doses; always in groups. Always with some buffer to lighten the air between them.

.

But, eventually, they resume their lunchtime practices. Yes – alone. After, you know, a while.

And, really, after discovering new friendships in the team he’s always had – it just took him a while to find – learning that he’s cared about, and that, yes, even his personality has value – he’s _liked_ – Kageyama slowly starts to realize that it wasn’t fair.

The way he relied on Hinata, he means.

It isn’t fair to put so much pressure on one person; to depend so heavily and completely on someone for happiness. For purpose. It isn’t Hinata’s responsibility to make Kageyama feel whole. It never was.

After all, the sun doesn’t rise just for him.

And through that realization, things got better.

.

They attend Tanaka and Nishinoya’s joint graduation party together – and, together, they field the jokes about the Team Couple reconciling (Nishinoya doesn’t join in); he even laughs when Hinata punches him in the shoulder and stage-whispers _‘our cover is blown. I told you we should have driven separately.’_

For Hinata’s birthday, Kageyama gets him a gift card for a bike shop and shoelaces with volleyballs on them.

Nothing too personal, but still it’s something.

Hinata has worn the laces in his sneakers ever since.

And a month later, when Hinata is named team captain, Kageyama hugs him.

And, of course, it still hurts sometimes. It’s agony, really – to look down at those happy, teary brown eyes and watch them turn from him to Yuu before stepping into his arms as well; watching Tsukishima rustle that red hair and Tanaka pick him up and twirl him around. To force a smile on his face through it all. To know that he’s just one of Hinata’s many friends, now. He’s just a teammate, now that whatever feelings Hinata maybe once held for Kageyama have dissolved. They’re still partners on the court, after all. And that’s a lot – that’s still _everything_ to Kageyama. And he’s grateful. But to be reminded that the way Hinata looks at him, now, is the same way he looks at everyone...

Kageyama isn’t special to him anymore. At least, not in the way he _was._

 _That_ will always hurt.

But it’s almost worth it later that same evening when Kageyama walks him to his corner, alone, after a celebratory feast of too much pizza and soda. After walking slowly through the warm night, in the glow of the streetlights with Hinata whining about the heat (seem familiar? It should), after stopping and turning to him, sticking a hand into that wild hair that he misses so much and saying,

“I’m so proud of you.”

It’s almost worth it to see that flicker of a memory ghost over his face. And happy tears spring back up into his eyes.

“Thank you, Kageyama,” he says quietly, wiping his eyes and sniffing. “Thank you for… everything.” He gives one more teary smile before riding off.

It’s almost worth it.

It’s all he can have. So it’s enough.

And he’s okay. He knows he’s going to be okay.

He may not have the sun, but he’s learning to find the light inside himself.

He’s grateful for it; really, he is. To have felt love so strongly. Even if it was only once. And in his own way, he’ll always love Hinata.

Even as his feelings start to fade.

He’ll mourn them, for sure, but it’s time to say goodbye to the heartache – the longing.

He’s getting better.

He feels better.

And, okay – maybe this is healing.


	26. Chapter 26

**Four months later**

“I GOT IT!”

Hinata yelps mid-sentence when the door to the clubroom bursts open, crashing hard against the wall. He spins around to see Yamaguchi’s flushed face and a wide smile stretched across the whole of it.

“Way to break shit,” Kageyama says to Yamaguchi, tying up a sneaker and lowering his leg from the bench. Tsukishima pushes past the grinning boy in the doorway.

“Got what?” Hinata asks, turning back to his locker to pull on his practice shirt.

“My college acceptance letter! It came yesterday!” Yamaguchi cries, leaping forward into the room and waving the piece of paper around. “Finally!”

“You sound relieved,” Yuu says.

“He is,” Tsukishima says, pushing up his glasses and then unzipping his jacket.

“Of course I am!” Yamaguchi replies with a scoff. “Kageyama and Tsukki got theirs, like, a month ago! And Hinata…” Yamaguchi suddenly trails off and goes quiet, his face pinching into worry. “Oh…” he swallows, “sorry, Hinata, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hinata interrupts, waving him off and shutting his locker. He grins. “Congratulations!”

“I bet you’ll get yours soon!” Yamaguchi adds quickly. “Maybe it will be waiting for you at home today!”

“Ah, yeah,” Hinata says. He gets to his knees and pulls his sneakers from his bag, keeping his eyes lowered. “You’re probably right. And if it doesn’t, I can always live in a box by the river.”

Hinata smiles to himself at his joke, but an uncomfortable silence settles over the room and Hinata can feel his teammates exchanging awkward glances as they quickly finish changing for morning practice. So he clears his throat and says, casually, as he puts on his shoes,

“I’m kidding guys, lighten up.” He jumps to his feet and sticks his hands to his hips. “I applied late, so they probably respond in the order they received the applications, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, dumbass,” Kageyama says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“I didn’t realize you were an authority on college applications!” Hinata fires back.

“Nice one. I think you’re actually getting dumber.” But then Kageyama’s face softens. “Don’t worry, idiot, you’ll get it.”

“Yeah!” Yamaguchi says, nodding quickly. “I know you will! If they let me in, they _have_ to let you in!”

“Maybe they just haven’t sent out the rejection letters yet.”

“Tsukki!”

Hinata covers his smile with his hand when Yamaguchi punches Tsukishima in the back as they walk out the door.

“You really haven’t heard anything yet?” Yuu asks, joining Kageyama against the wall.

Hinata sniffs, dropping back to his knees and rooting around in his bag for his water bottle and sighing inwardly. “Ah, nope,” he says lightly. He snatches up the bottle and stuffs it in his face, taking a long, slurping drink with his eyes pointed off to the side. “I’m sure I will,” he says, aiming for nonchalant and wiping his mouth with his arm. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Yuu shoot Kageyama a weird look as he climbs to his feet.

Shit. He can’t look directly at either one of them.

“You will,” Kageyama says, then, clapping Hinata on the shoulder as he walks to the door. “You coming?” he asks Yuu.

“Yep!”

“Hurry up,” Kageyama says over his shoulder to Hinata as he leaves. “We still have to pick teams for the practice match tomorrow and everyone is already in the gym.”  

“Right!” Hinata says through a grin.

“Don’t worry,” Yuu says kindly, pausing at the doorway. “You’ll get in.

“Ah—yeah,” Hinata says, rubbing the back of his neck. He isn’t sure how much longer he can keep the stupid smile on his face. But he amps up the intensity and aims the aching thing at Yuu. “I’m not worried! It will work out!”

“You’re so calm,” Yuu says with admiration thick in his voice as he picks at the doorframe with a fingernail, his face pink. “I’d be freaking out, I think. I’d be so scared of not being able to play with you guys again.”

The smile wavers – good thing Yuu isn’t looking at him. He forces a laugh. “Yeah, well,” he says awkwardly, “that’s me… un, uh, flappable. Stoic?”

Yuu laughs at that and then, mercifully, turns and walks away. “Don’t be late!” he calls back.

“Won’t,” Hinata mutters. Mostly to himself.  

Alone in the clubroom, he chews his lip, eyes zoned out towards the empty doorway. When he hears the boy’s footfalls descending the stairs, he sinks onto the bench and tilts his head up to the ceiling, blowing out a slow breath.

He just needs a second.

He hates lying.

He really, _really_ hates it.

He isn’t sure how much longer he can keep it up and he really wishes everyone would just fucking _drop_ it already. All this college stuff – all this _life_ stuff.

All this… _‘we’ll all be a team again’_ stuff _._

Because, the truth is, he got his acceptance letter weeks ago.

 

He also got another one.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets get back to some dedications :D 
> 
> This chapter is for @lookatallthefandoms from tumblr <33 I love you and all your weird comments and asks and for all of your amazing support :')
> 
> And YES - I know the boys don’t play actual games in their school gym, but I took some liberties and I hope you’re not too hung up on that by the time you reach the end of the chapter :D

**Seven months later**

The sound of the whistle is lost amidst the cheering of the Karasuno crowd, but it’s quiet in Hinata’s head. He’s in the zone. They all are. And the only sound he needs is the thrumming of his heart, the calls of his team, and the squeal of sneakers on the shiny floor.

Logistically, this game holds no weight; they’ve already played and fought their way into the national tournament – a twelve-day event beginning two weeks from today and three days after his nineteenth birthday. It’s set to carry them through four different cities; six different schools.

This is just a formality. To finish out the season.

But today – this afternoon – in their own gymnasium, Hinata stands on their court in the last home game of his high school career.

The score is twenty-four to sixteen. Third set. And Yamaguchi is serving. They’re going to win.

It was almost too easy.

The game, he means. Not high school. _God_ , not that.

Navigating through the overgrown swamp of his feelings the last few years was the most difficult thing he’s done in his life. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

And yet…

His eyes flick over to Kageyama. The setter wipes his brow with his forearm before catching Hinata’s eye; he smirks, nodding at the net. Hinata smiles back.

He wouldn’t have changed a second of it for the world.   

It was _hard_ , yeah, but it was important. It took him a while to come to terms with that; to stop beating himself up for, like, _enjoying_ the pain.

And yeah, maybe _enjoy_ wasn’t the best word to use, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it.

He learned so much about himself through all the suffering – lessons he can carry with him now, as he enters the next stage of his life.

And he made it through. He did it. He _survived._

And he wasn’t alone, he knows. Kageyama, too, had been affected by that cold winter night last year. By everything, probably. Maybe not the same way Hinata had been, but Hinata could tell that he was. Affected in some weird Kageyama way. But, really, who wouldn’t have been? Hinata said some terrible things – things that he never actually apologized for, in the end, but they were things that he _needed_ to say. It didn’t matter if they were true or not.

And they certainly were _not._

Hinata knew that Kageyama thought of him as a friend, that he missed him when Hinata wasn’t around. He told Hinata that, after all. Maybe not in those exact words, but Hinata knew what he meant the night of Kageyama’s birthday.

But Hinata had to end it.

It was what he needed to do to move on – to move forward. It was selfish, of course, but it had to be done. His love was killing him.

Like he said, it’s what he needed to do to survive _._

The flood of anguish that came after was almost unlivable. He wouldn’t have ever believed that a human could withstand so much if he hadn’t experienced it himself. There were nights he would lie in bed, motionless, save for the stream of tears dampening his pillow, and wish himself into non-existence; thinking that maybe if he hoped hard enough he would sink into his bed and just disappear. Or maybe just crumble into dust. Stop breathing. Stop thinking. Stop hurting. Stop living.

Just stop _being._

Some days his chest hurt so bad he thought he’d be rushed to the hospital. Surely that level of physical pain wasn’t _normal_. Feelings can’t possibly hurt that bad.

But that’s why it’s called a broken heart.

And yet…

Buried there beneath it all was this overwhelming sense of _relief._ It burbled up. It oozed through every pore like lava from the earth; dripped from him in his sweat, in every tear. There were rivers of it running with his blood with every treacherous beat of his aching heart.

He was gushing with it.

Because for the first time in two years he felt _free._

And eventually the pain diminished. Weeks turned into months and he slowly remembered what it was like to be happy. To feel like himself and be part of something on the court.

He saw a change in Kageyama, too, once they started talking again.  

Hinata noticed him talking to other members of the team as well, and more and more frequently. He sought the company of others during practice matches and games, and he started making conversation easily. Kageyama even, after a time, started to smile more.

And, eventually, things just got… _better_.

Falling out of love is tough. But it’s possible.

And nights were the hardest, at first. He distracted himself with video games and phone calls to friends – he’s pretty sure that Kenma was, like, a day away from murdering him.

He started reading books.

He hated reading books.

And he practiced drawing. He’s gotten much better at it.

The distractions began to work; slowly, surely, he stopped crying himself to sleep. He found solace in puzzle games, ones that kept his mind working and busy.

He learned to fall asleep with the TV on – movies, anime, old reruns of sitcoms. As long as there was noise, his mind didn’t wander, and sleep came easy.

Eventually he stopped needing the TV.

He was getting better.

But there were some nights Hinata would relapse – for lack of a better word. Sometimes an accidental brush of hands during practice would stick with him through the day, spilling over into the quiet evening. Some nights he’d let his knees part, legs falling open wide and he’d fuck himself on his fingers with nothing on his mind but the echo of Kageyama’s skin against his.

There were some things he wasn’t quite willing to give up just yet.

And that was okay. Those kinds of things were _okay_ in moderation.

Because they felt _good._

As long as they’re kept… in moderation.

Right?

But, anyway, this game.

He knows, realistically, it’s not the last time he’ll stand on this court, here, where it all started; where he and Kageyama formed their partnership. Their friendship. Where he first fell hopelessly in love (even if he can’t pinpoint the moment it happened, where _else_ could it have happened?).

Where he finally became part of a team.

But a piece of himself is being left behind in this gym today. So he tries to take it all in – pulling it in like breath into his lungs. His eyes sweep the bleachers, his classmates in spirit shirts. Their former teammates cheering from the front row. Parents. Grandparents. Teachers. Friends.

This game… this team. His team.

Kageyama. His partner.

 _Their_ team.

Everything that brought him to this moment is so important to him that it makes his chest feel ready to burst. To be captain of a team about to play at nationals—

“Hey, dumbass,” a breathless voice calls to him. And he blinks, shaking himself from his thoughts and wiping at a single, beautiful tear rolling down his cheek. “You okay?”

“Yep!” He says, flashing his partner a proud smile. He claps his hands once with the tweet of the whistle, his heart soaring with pride at the swelling cheer of the crowd. Of course, he’s okay. He’s _okay._

 _“ALRIGHT NICE SERVE!”_ Kageyama calls, squaring himself in front of the net.

Hinata smiles and runs his tongue over his lips.

But it’s okay. It’s all so okay. It’s _good._

He made it. He did it. He _survived._

“ _YAMAGUCHI,”_ he bellows.  

He’s free.

_“NICE SERVE!”_

* * *

 

 

“And then it was like _BWAHHHH—Guh-BAM!”_

 _“_ I know! And then he went all _WHOOSHH_ and I was like _WAHH—”_

“Brilliant commentary,” Tsukishima mutters to Kageyama, walking behind Hinata and Nishinoya and Yuu as they ascend the stairs to the clubroom. After the game, the rest of the team filtered out of the gym following the end-of-game handshake and have been chatting away with the former Karasuno volleyball members in the courtyard (who so graciously offered to take them all out to dinner), while the four of them – and Nishinoya, for reasons of nostalgia – agreed to help clean up and talk a bit with a few members of the opposing team.

“Stuff your sass,” Hinata wheels around on Tsukishima from the top step and jabs a finger in the giant’s face. Hinata has grown some centimeters in the past year, but he still has to climb a couple steps to look down at the lanky blond. “As your captain I order you to be excited and stoked and _GWAAAH~_ with the rest of us _—”_

“Would that be an adjective or verb?”

“It’s whatever the opposite of your face is!”

“With all due respect, _Captain_ , I will launch you down these stairs—”

“What does that even mean, dumbass?”

“Man, it’s so good to be home,” Nishinoya sighs, reaching up and tousling Tsukishima’s hair before walking past Hinata towards the clubroom. “You don’t keep porn in here, do you?” He asks, nodding towards the door.

“Kageyama tried,” Hinata says, pulling the keys out of his bag. “Yachi made him take it out. Nishinoya, would you do the honors?” He asks, handing the keys to his former teammate.

“I told you, Kageyama,” Nishinoya says seriously, slipping the key in the lock, “not everyone is into inflation porn.”

Kageyama curls his lip and side-eyes the shit out of the libero as he steps gingerly around him when opens the door.

“That’s alarmingly specific,” Tsukishima mutters, walking into the clubroom behind the others. 

“What’s that?” Yuu asks, eyes flicking around to the older boys while Noya arches his brows suggestively in Kageyama’s direction. The setter rolls his eyes and opens his locker.

“Look it up,” Tsukishima says.

“DON’T look it up,” Hinata says, snatching Yuu’s phone when he pulls it from his bag. “We’ll talk later.”

Yuu scoffs as he sits on the bench. “Sure, _dad._ ”

“Didn’t you ask him out last year?” Tsukishima asks as he peels off his jersey.

Hinata shoots the second-year a look and can’t help but giggle at the blush that creeps up the boy’s face. Even Kageyama can’t keep a snort to himself.

“It was more than a year ago!” Yuu snaps.

“Well, we know the porn _he’ll_ keep stashed in here!” Nishinoya laughs.

But poor Yuu just looks confused, eyes wide and pleading when he looks over at Kageyama for help.

Kageyama sighs. “He means you have a daddy—”

“I know what he means!” Yuu barks, hurling a sneaker at the setter.

The affronted look on Kageyama’s face when he turns around has Hinata giggling.

“You know, back then, I actually thought you liked Kageyama,” Hinata laughs.

“What?” The setter asks.

“Why?” Yuu adds.

“Well, the king _does_ have the whole tall dark and handsome thing going on—”

“Oo~ Tsukishima has a crush, too—”

“Okay, yeah, but I’m _adorable_ —” Hinata scoffs.

“You’re the one who thought he liked me, stupid,” Kageyama says.

“Maybe he likes _both_ of you? Hm?” Noya asks lifting his brows. “You feel me?”

“Guys!” Yuu cries.  

 _“_ Okay, okay. Sorry, Yuu,” Nishinoya says with a grin, walking towards the door. “Come on, we still have to figure out where we’re taking you guys.”

“Are you sure you really want to do that?” Kageyama asks, tugging on his warmup pants. “There’s a lot of us.”

“We can afford it,” Noya says with a shrug.

“How?” Tsukishima asks, straightening up and slinging his bag around his body. “Do any of you even have jobs?”

Nishinoya makes a face. “Plus,” he says, “think of it as a graduation present for a few of you.” He winks and then steps through the door with Tsukishima following close behind.

“Man, I should start winking like that. It’s so cool,” Hinata says.

“ _You_ should not,” Kageyama replies.  

“Aren’t you going to change?” Yuu asks Hinata, hitching his backpack on. “And give me back my phone.”

Hinata glances down at himself, somehow surprised by the fact that he’s still in his full uniform. Maybe he’s unconsciously delaying taking it off. “Ah,” he blinks, pulling the phone out of his pocket and handing it over, “yeah. I should probably do that.”

“Well hurry the hell up,” the second-year huffs, making his way to the door. “I’m starving.”

“Alright, Jesus,” Hinata quips to Yuu’s back as he lets the door shut behind him.

“I keep forgetting he asked you out,” Kageyama says, taking a seat on the bench.

“How!” Hinata cries, popping his head through his white t-shirt. “You helped him!”

“My memory is bad.”

“No, you’re just stupid.”

Kageyama nods.  

“I’ll be out in a sec if you wanted to go wait with them.”

Kageyama shrugs. “I’m good.”

Hinata hops around in front of his locker, sliding off his knee pads one by one and then tugging his sneakers back on. But then he stops dancing in place; he slowly sets his foot back on the floor and just stares into his locker.

He sighs, bringing his hands up and running his fingers over the side of the door, the edge of the opening, feeling the texture of the metal beneath his skin.

His heart hurts.

He’s going to miss this.

He drops his head.

 

 

“God,” Hinata says, rubbing his hands up his face before turning to Kageyama. He steps over to the bench and takes a seat beside him. “I can’t…” he pauses, blowing out a slow breath.

Kageyama can hear the waver to it, and he lets his gaze shift over to watch Hinata chew his lip. His heart squeezes at the look of defeat that flickers over Hinata’s tired face. It’s there, but only for a moment.

“I mean,” Hinata continues in a small voice, watching his lap, “it was our last game… I just can’t believe it.”

“It wasn’t our last game, stupid,” Kageyama says quietly, looking away. It’s… been a while since he’s had to look away. He’s trying not to feel too nostalgic. “We still have the tournament.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And then there’s college,” Kageyama reminds him. “It won’t be the same, but… a lot of us… we’ll still play together.”

There’s no response to that. And Kageyama blinks over to Hinata. He watches again the way Hinata worries his lip between his teeth, brown eyes seemingly far away. But then they close slowly, loosely over that lost gaze for just a moment before they open again, tears pinned at the corners.

The emotions that swoop and tumble through Kageyama’s chest, seeing him like that, carry a sweetness that turns bitter on his tongue. There’s a comfort to the familiarity, yet it soaks him in an old, tired sadness. But… _fuck,_ there’s something new to it, too, that he’s struggling to understand.

And he does, obviously. He understands the thing about it being their “last” game because he’s sad, too. But there’s something in those tears that’s both recognizable and still so foreign. Kageyama understands things now. He does. He worked hard at it.

But this… there’s something else to this. Maybe not in what Hinata’s saying, that’s not what he means. But there’s a feeling welling up inside Kageyama that hasn’t been called on in quite some time. And it’s… concerning.

Kageyama swallows.

“This was _our_ team,” Hinata says, shoulders drooping as he speaks. Then he sighs. “You know what I mean.”

And Kageyama does. So he says,

“I do.”

He does. But somehow he feels unsettled. Shadowed.

Anxious.

He shakes it off.

They sit there for several silent seconds, staring at the floor. And then,

“ _Wahh~_ ” Hinata says so softly, humor wedged awkwardly into his raspy voice. He leans over and drops his head casually to Kageyama’s shoulder. As if it’s the most normal thing in the world. As if the past year was just…

Nothing at all.

And without missing a beat, Kageyama reaches up and rustles his hair. Because it _is_ the most normal thing in the world.

 _This_ is how it’s supposed to be.

…

Right?

And nothing more.

“It sure was something, wasn’t it?” Hinata asks, sniffling quietly.

_Nothing more._

“It was something,” Kageyama repeats, nodding. His brow furrows, then.

_‘Our team.’_

“And graduation… god, I haven’t even had time to think about that. Is it really tomorrow?”

Kageyama nods again, dropping his hand slowly from red hair to rest beside Hinata on the bench.

Another silent minute passes, and Kageyama can feel the little tremors of quiet tears become fewer and farther between. Eventually they stop completely.   

But Kageyama feels something trembling inside himself, too. It’s quiet and slight. But it’s gaining in strength.

“Hey… Kageyama?” Hinata says in that small voice.

Kageyama blinks. “Hm?”

There’s a pause. Kageyama thinks that maybe Hinata started crying again, but then he picks his head up. Turning his whole body towards Kageyama, he kneels on the bench and drops his eyes to his lap. His lips part, and he sucks in a small breath. But he doesn’t say anything.

_‘Our team.’_

And something… something happens to Kageyama, watching Hinata’s lips part and close again before he knuckles at his eyes. Something he can’t identify or define.

But it flares up inside of him and then sinks again – old. Forgotten in its feel.

No.

No, not forgotten.

_Oh no._

Never forgotten.

 _‘Our_.’

Blue eyes widen.

 _Oh_ no.

His pulse starts to quicken, his frown deepening as he watches Hinata stumble and search around for his words.

Suddenly, Kageyama pulls in a breath.

Hinata swallows thickly. “We… um…”

He feels a twinge again. Almost metallic, like a twang of wire dragging over the pit of his stomach. Stirring up something heavy.

“You know…”

Powerful.

“When, uh…”

Urgent.

“I mean…”

It’s an echo. A memory. Crawling up his spine and gathering behind his heart like electricity. It’s _something—_

‘ _Our_.’

 _Oh_ god.

In that moment—

“God, nothing!” Hinata suddenly chirps, raising his eyes with a blinding smile splitting his face. “We should go, is all.” He sniffs theatrically and giggles, wiping his eyes with both hands. “They’re waiting for us! And I’m just sitting here being dramatic.”

 —he realizes—

“Come on, let’s celebrate victory in style—”

—that he made a mistake—

“I can’t wait to spend all of Tanaka’s money—”

—that it was never truly over—

“He really owes me for that one time with that girl at our last away game—“

—he just made a mistake—

“Oo~ we should try that new Mongolian place—

—back then, that night, all those months ago, that’s all it was, a mistake—

“But pizza is always the answer, it’s just not expensive enough—

—a misunderstanding—

A fucking _misunderstanding._

His palms are sweating and he feels the room slipping sideways; falling around him in slow motion.

His vision starts to blur.

Kageyama stands suddenly from the bench, blinking at Hinata as he busies himself with zipping up his messenger bag, chattering and chattering and chattering away, but his voice has long since phased out.

Okay.

Yeah.

He lied.

His feelings never faded.

_Our._

Kageyama loves him just as much as he always has. But he kept it buried. Hidden. And now it’s ripping through him, tearing him open. Singeing all his edges. He wants to scream. He wants to run.

But he won’t do any of that.

Because he knows what to do.

Hinata aims some words at Kageyama, smiling through them as he turns and walks to the door, still talking over his shoulder.

And Kageyama takes a mechanical step forward—

“—but they have these breadstick things with three different cheeses inside of them, and you can even get sausage or pepperoni in them too, but, like, I think the cheese is _way_ more than enough—“

—towards what, he doesn’t know.

But he quells the panic and the dread seeping up inside him.

He knows what to do now.

And he knows what he _has_ to do.

“—especially if you order pizza too, because if there’s pepperoni inside the sticks it’s, like, a _reverse_ pizza, but I guess that wouldn’t be a bad thing, how _could_ it be a bad thing, and there’s these, like, dessert pizzas with cherry and apple and this icing kind of sauce stuff,” Hinata bodily shivers with excitement when he places his hand on the door knob and turns it. He pulls—

But it doesn’t open.

He freezes, blinking at the door then down at the knob. “What the—“ he tries it again and yanks a little harder. This time it gives an inch before slamming back against the frame.

And Hinata’s eyes dart up to Kageyama’s hand, pressed firmly to the flimsy wood a foot above his head.

“Kageyama?” Hinata turns then, face drawn hard into a confused frown when he looks up at the setter. “What are you doing?

He knows what to do now.

And looking down into those confused brown eyes, Kageyama says,

“Our.”

Hinata blinks. He blinks again. “Huh?”

Kageyama’s fingers curl against the peeling paint and he take a slow, deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut. Again, he says,

“Our.”

“Yeah,” Hinata says slowly, hesitantly, turning to lean back against the door and cross his arms over his chest, “is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Kageyama opens his eyes again. “That’s what I meant to say.”

And looking down into Hinata’s eyes, the space between them crinkled with confusion and just a little annoyance, Kageyama can see a glint of comprehension flicker across his face – his gaze widens and his face goes slack, but it’s gone in a fraction of a second to be replaced by hard swallow as he looks away.

“T-they’re—“ Hinata says shakily and turns away to replace his hand on the doorknob, “they’re waiting for us, so move—“

“That night,” Kageyama continues. His voice is steady and quiet, but he can feel the terror shaking him to the core. The heartache he’s kept sealed up so tight is racing through him with a deafening howl. But he has to say this. He _has to_. “It’s what I was trying to say, Hinata.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hinata says in a rush, pairing it with an insane laugh as he tries to yank the door open. “I t-think your brain finally got knocked loose, Kageyama! P-please move—“

“Hinata—“

“—we have to go—“

“—please just listen—“

“—we can’t keep them waiting!” Hinata cries, abandoning the nonchalance and frantically tugging at the door, forgetting to turn the knob half the time and instead just pulling in his rising panic. He jams a foot to the doorframe for leverage.

Kageyama grits his teeth together as his own panic flares as well, his control over himself slipping as he pushes hard against the door to keep it shut while his other hand closes around Hinata’s frantic fingers clawing at the knob. Hinata makes a quiet crying noise far back in his throat as he pulls his hands from beneath Kageyama’s, his foot dropping hard back to the floor. For a second, hopeless brown eyes just stare at Kageyama’s hand, but his face twists with fear and he lunges forward again, tearing at Kageyama’s wrist and desperately trying to pry his fingers from his only escape—

“ _Dammit_ , Hinata, listen to me!”

“Oh god—“ Hinata sobs, fingers shaking violently as he rakes and rips at Kageyama’s hand.

 _You still bite your nails._ “Hinata—"

“Please no—”

“I have to say this—”

“Please let me out—”

 “What I meant to say—

“No no no _no_ please _please_ LET ME OUT—”

“God _dammit_ , Hinata!” Kageyama roars, letting go of the door to instead grab at Hinata’s shoulders; Hinata lets out another cry when Kageyama roughly spins him around and slams his back hard against the door.

Hinata is panting – pulling in ragged, frantic breaths and his eyes open wide and round to look up at Kageyama in horror.

And he can see it – the last few years flashing through Hinata’s terrified eyes. All the pain, the loneliness, the feelings he kept buried inside himself in his efforts to forget about Kageyama. It’s like a knife to his heart to see the memories come screeching back without any warning but it’s important that this happens now, and Hinata I swear I’ll make up for doing this to you again after giving you peace but it’s so important right now because this should have happened years ago, it’s so _important_ —

“ _Our_ first kiss.”

But, no, _no_ that isn’t good enough. It’s what he meant to say all those months ago but it’s not what he needs to say right now. It’s just a tiny sliver of it. And he could stop there and invite all the confusion in the world, all the miscommunication and somehow the dumbass would manage to misunderstand what he said and throw them back into the cruel habits that have kept them apart all this time that could have been prevented had they just fucking _talked,_ but Kageyama knows what to do now, he knows what he should have done a long time ago and he has to be clear to make sure there’s absolutely no room at all for misunderstanding and oh my _GOD_ just fucking _SAY IT ALREADY_ —

“I love you, dumbass.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to wafflecone, who has given me so many reasons to feel good about this fic for a long time now :'D thank you so much <33

There’s a pause.

A long pause.

And then Hinata’s face falls.

That… wasn’t the reaction Kageyama expected.

It’s obvious that what Kageyama said wasn’t what Hinata was expecting, either.

“You… you what?”

And, finally, everything that Kageyama has held back these past years comes flooding out of him in a single torturous sob – he drops his head as the tears immediately begin pour from his eyes.  

 _“I love you,_ ” he rasps. “ _Fuck_ —Hinata—I love you so much. For so _long_ —” he sucks in a shuddering breath, flexing his fingers into still shoulders; he drops his hands to twist weakly into the front of Hinata’s shirt. Even though he can’t speak anymore he can feel everything streaming out of him and there is no way Hinata could misunderstand this. _Everything_ – relief and fear and longing and hope and the burden of keeping it all bottled up for so many years. He’s crying so hard he’s shaking. But he said it. He _really_ fucking said it – this isn’t a dream. This isn’t some trick. He finally, _finally_ fucking said it. And still, those words fall painfully short. There’s nothing he could possibly say that would encompass the impossible depth of his feelings. Of all the love he has to give him. And _god_ what he’d do to be given the chance… And fuck with it all out of him and hanging in the air between them he almost feels empty without it cluttering up his chest—

“ _Why.”_

Kageyama almost doesn’t hear it. And it takes a moment for it to register. He slowly raises his eyes.

“What?”

Hinata is staring at him. Eyes wide. Almost terrified. “Why,” he says again.

It’s louder, but it’s not a question.

Kageyama blinks and tears fall down his cheeks. “I don’t—”

“Why now?” Hinata mouths. It’s barely a sound. But Kageyama hears it.

He blinks again and sniffs. “I don’t… understand—”

“Why now?” Hinata says, louder, growing frantic.

Kageyama swallows, eyes shifting away and then back, lips parting in confusion.

“Why now?” This time it’s much louder, and Hinata grabs at Kageyama’s hands in his shirt. The setter’s own teary eyes widen as Hinata’s face twists in rage.

“I-I don’t—”

“Why now!?” Hinata takes a sudden step forward. Kageyama doesn’t know what’s happening and he lets Hinata lead him backwards into the room.

Kageyama’s mouth works around questions that he just doesn’t have.

“Why now!?” He forces out again and abandons Kageyama’s hands to stuff angrily onto Kageyama’s shirt. Kageyama’s hands fall from Hinata as he’s shoved hard, barely keeping his balance.

“W-what—”

“Why now!?” Hinata is shouting now, his fury burning a hot red in his face as tears gather at the crinkled edges of his eyes. “Why now you fucking asshole!? Why now!?”

“Hinata, stop—”

“Why now!? WHY NOW!?”

“Please, I can’t—”

“WHY NOW!?” With that one, Kageyama trips backwards over his bag, toppling them both over; he lands on the floor, panicked when Hinata crawls up over him, angry fists shaking him hard. “WHY NOW!?” he keeps screaming, over and over and over again, “WHY NOW!? _WHY NOW!?_ ”

But then a rage of his own builds in his chest and Kageyama snatches at the hands in his shirt, forcefully stilling them and yanking them hard, throwing the other boy down onto the floor and switching their positions and growling down at Hinata, _“I don’t understand the question, you idiot!”_

Hinata stops yelling, but still he’s breathing hotly, glaring up at Kageyama while furious puffs of air lift his chest.

But, no. No no no no, Kageyama is _not_ backing down. Not now. Maybe this is a mistake, but, no, it’s _not_ a mistake! Whatever the fuck Hinata is yelling about isn’t going to derail him from this. He has to say this. He _has_ to. Even if Hinata never loved him – even if Hinata’s feelings never went beyond anything more than some stupid crush, Kageyama has to keep going. He _has_ to let him know—

“I love you,” he says hoarsely, inches from that look of violence staring back at him as another sob grips him; tears spill out over his cheeks, dropping heavily from his chin. He shuts his eyes, squeezing the hands in his and shoving them to the floor beside Hinata’s head. Even though he knows Hinata never loved him, he whimpers,

“and I know you love me, too.”

And then, softly, quietly, with all the fury gone from his voice,

“Not anymore, Kageyama.”

A hissing sob slips from Kageyama’s mouth and he drops his head to Hinata’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he can. But the tears keep coming. “You’re—” he rasps, desperate. Defeated. He weakly lifts and then presses Hinata’s wrists against the ground. “You’re _lying_ ,” he pleads, hopeless. Lost.

Oh god, this _was_ a mistake. It was all a mistake. He can feel the blackness returning – the despair. The crushing darkness winding around him like some terrible—

“Of course I’m lying.”

 

 

Kageyama freezes; Hinata can actually hear the arrest to his breath. And his head snaps up.

Hinata’s heart is in his throat, graveling his voice when he says, “you giant idiot.”

He said that falling out of love was possible.

He never said he _did._

But those teary blue eyes can do nothing but stare. Kageyama’s lips part and he chokes out a breath before pulling one back in.

And Hinata easily slips a hand free, raising the shaking thing slowly to Kageyama’s face as tears of his own leak down into his hair. And as he lies there, trembling fingers smoothing over Kageyama’s damp cheek, Hinata whispers, “ _breathe, stupid_. _”_

“You… breathe,” Kageyama whispers in return; his eyes are wide – disbelieving.

Sound advice, now that Hinata is struggling to inhale himself beneath the impact of what’s happening. He begins to shake in a way that’s beyond his control. And when Kageyama covers Hinata’s hand with his, pressing it to his face, time stands still.

It does.

And the rest of the world falls away.

There’s no sound.

There’s no movement.

There’s nothing else anywhere.

Only them.

The love in Kageyama’s eyes is unmistakable – and Hinata realizes that there’s nothing new reflected in his gaze. He’s seen that look so _so_ many times before.

How could he have been so stupid.

He can feel himself crumbling. Falling to pieces as his heart hammers wildly in his ears. The last couple years whip like a spinning film reel through his head – the glances, the touching, the halted speech and the secret smiles; it was all right there for him to see. It was all right there.

Right fucking _there._

And as his breath returns, he thinks that maybe this is a hallucination. Maybe it’s some dream. Maybe this is fucking madness sprung from the bitter sorrow of soon losing his team. His friends.

Losing Kageyama.

Maybe it is. But he doubts he has the cruelty within himself to deliver this beautiful fabrication _now_ ; his masochism cannot _possibly_ extend this far.

No… no this is real.   

And so he’s breathing hard – heart racing with a force that he’s never known. Thudding faster and faster along with every rapid pull of air into his trembling body.

The softness of those hands, the care in his eyes, the warmth to those pink lips and the depth to the voice that tumbles over them when he speaks his name; it all could have been his.

It _was_ his. He just didn’t know it

And god help him he wants to be angry – he wants to punch the shit out of Kageyama’s stupid face but _fuck_ , _FUCK, he’s_ just as much at fault for this entire fucking mess and these last shitty _wonderful_ years and all the pain, the misunderstandings, the terrible things that have been said but no more time is going to be lost to lamenting the timing of this confession and he refuses to spend even one more second without—

“Hinata, please—“

Hinata reaches up and pulls Kageyama down to him.

 

And the next of Kageyama’s words still against Hinata’s lips.

 

As if the world hadn’t already dropped away, the warm yield to Kageyama’s lips is all Hinata knows in that moment – maybe all he’s ever known. All thought falls into the ether of both the exhilaration and comfort of Kageyama’s heat above him; all sensations – past present and future – converge into this. A tingling wave of warmth cascades through his body, rushing to every gated corner, bursting through the walls he’d forged to weather the agony of a life without his partner.

And when he knots his fists in the back of Kageyama’s shirt he gasps the quietest sob against the setter’s mouth.

He’s kissing him. He’s kissing Kageyama.

Kageyama sucks in a breath and pulls back an inch; his frightened eyes wildly searching.

Warmth blooms hotter in Hinata’s cheeks and his chest bobs with the effort of keeping himself alive; and right as the world begins to reform, it’s swept away as those fingers gently tangle into his hair and a shaky palm cups his jaw—

“Don’t—” Kageyama pleads, “don’t run.”

And then he gathers all of Hinata in his arms and claims his lips with a force that engulfs them wholly in flames.

Their fire shoots high into the sky, igniting with a brilliance that rivals the sun.

Kageyama is kissing him.

This isn’t real.

This can’t be real.

But he’ll lose himself to it anyway.

Kageyama is kissing him.

The rush of molten joy that surges through his veins threatens to burst him open; there’s no container great enough to contain the outpouring of raw emotion. He’d gladly rupture with it if it meant just one more second of those fingers raking through his hair and Kageyama’s chest pressed so close to his that the thrumming of their hearts melt into one. And he might. He feels like he’s erupting; like his body cannot withstand the power of his love. His happiness. Of Kageyama’s lips finally against his in a way that no amount of dreaming could have prepared him for. In a way which even the most poetic words would fail.

They feel like everything. Kageyama feels like everything.

Because he is.   

Hinata clings to him, gasping – the only anchor in their dizzying world as their lips move together; he feels the way Kageyama gives up everything in the kiss – his longing and his fear and his weakness and all the regret he’s kept so deep down inside. He’s baring his soul; breaking in the most beautiful way. They both are.

And then Kageyama’s mouth opens to his.

Hinata wants to drown in the taste of him.

To fill all the spaces in his body with the watery, gasping moan that Kageyama feeds to him when Hinata wraps his trembling legs around his waist.

And when the shallow breaths they share make the air thick and heavy around them, Hinata’s head begins to swim with more than the rising need to fill his lungs. The room starts to slip around him and his hands glide up the sides of Kageyama’s neck, stuffing into his hair and Kageyama is pulling him closer, gripping him tighter, lifting him up off the floor with a strong hand at the back of his head.

And Hinata is clawing at Kageyama’s hair now – his shoulders, his shirt; crushing his arms around his neck and his thighs at his hips and _oh GOD,_ Kageyama _likes_ it when he does that. Every squeeze of legs around his waist is paired with a groan growing steadily in urgency as the tearful hitch to his breath begins to fall away. The fire that lights his world sparks inward, kindling a blaze low in his stomach and Hinata realizes he’s answering with moans of his own.

He never wants this to end – the neediness of Kageyama’s lips on his. He’s drunk with it, now, already addicted and if his body didn’t demand the air he’s so selfishly denied it then he would so gladly let this kiss carry them through the next several years of their lives.

Sadly he has to breathe.

He pulls back from the kiss suddenly, knocking his head back and gasping to force oxygen into his lungs and he meets Kageyama’s eyes; the abrupt break has left him with his lips still parted, kiss-bruised and red, his wet eyes dark and lidded and dazed and his cheeks so deeply flushed the image halts Hinata’s breathing anyway; he’s panting hard, breath fanning over Hinata’s lips – and when he drags his bottom lip through his teeth he lets out this deep whimpering growl that sends a shudder rippling through Hinata’s body and gathers a heat low in his core—

But then Kageyama dips forward to press a kiss to his jaw, and then the side of his neck and then again and again and oh – _oh,_ that’s—

“Ka—yama— _“_ there’s a thick gravel to his voice that’s foreign in his ears as Kageyama’s lips drag over his throat. Kageyama licks at him, tasting him, and then there’s the faintest hint of teeth before—

“I love you—“ Kageyama says to his skin, breath hot against him. “I love you—Hinata—I love you—“

But then Hinata feels the warmth of fingers on his lower back, the slide of a palm against his bare skin as Kageyama runs his hand up his spine – his hand. That hand. _Kageyama’s hand_ presses against his shoulder blade, long, possessive fingers splaying out over his touch-starved flesh.

Possessive.

_Possessive._

The hands he's spent hours and hours privately worshiping and publicly applauding; the fingers that have been the subject of countless daydreams and hundreds if not _thousands_ of salacious nighttime fantasies.

 _Possessive_.

Of _him._

Kageyama is holding him like he’ll cease to exist if he were to let go and _god_ Hinata hopes he never does. His lips are hungry where they move against him, and, fuck, Kageyama isn’t even kissing him anymore – he’s lapping at his skin, biting and sucking at his neck and oh god it’s too much it’s way too much and he’s going to die. He’s dying. Hinata is dying. Sinking deeper and deeper into the dizzying rumble to the endless profession of love being wept against him and Hinata can’t even respond with words anymore. He just holds onto Kageyama for dear life and throws his head back and sobs – they’re both still crying, yes, but there’s so much beauty in it that Hinata is simmering – smoldering – burning like the underside of a coal and he’s going to sear the ground beneath him—

But then Kageyama lifts him off the ground, growling when he catches Hinata’s lips again and Hinata licks into Kageyama’s mouth – he has no idea what he’s doing but rather just giving himself over to instinct and need and Kageyama responds in turn, crushing an arm around Hinata’s waist and pulling him up against him as he rises to his knees; but then he pitches forward again and Hinata’s back slams hard against the lockers behind him. He cries out at the impact – not out of harm but because Kageyama breaks the kiss to breathe a maddening stream of _I’m sorry I’m sorry_ against Hinata’s waiting lips as his fingers twist into the shoulders of Hinata’s shirt, and Hinata has no idea if he’s apologizing for slamming him into things or for the past few years for making them both wait for _this_ but Hinata doesn’t care because it’s _okay_ Kageyama _I forgive you_ he just needs those lips back on his and so he hooks a leg around Kageyama’s waist and stuffs a rough hand into his hair and rolls them over, shoving Kageyama’s shoulders against the metal and climbing into his lap to again take the lips that have always been meant for him and _only_ _him_ —

“Jesus christ are you guys—”

They freeze.

And then the only sounds in the world are the whining creak of the clubroom door slowly floating open on its hinges and the ragged, rapid breathing of the two boys tangled together on the floor.

All three of them jump when the doorknob rattles quietly against the wall. Bringing the door to a stop.

And Yuu blinks. He blinks again.

“We’re just—”

                “Um, we—”

 “Uh—”

               “We sorta—”

“HoLY _SHIT!_ ” Yuu cries, throwing up his hands before lunging sideways to grip the doorknob and slam the door closed. “Fucking _finally_! Oh my _god_ in heaven,” they hear his muffled voice moving down the wall, getting quieter as he approaches the stairs, “fucking _hallelujah_ —hey! Guys! We should just go I don’t really think……….”

Together they swallow thickly when their teammate’s voice fades out completely. And, slowly, they turn their heads to look back at one another.

“Um,” Hinata licks his lips, still breathing hard, “what… is happening.”

And Kageyama’s eyes drop to Hinata’s lips before they flick back up. “I think… we were caught.”

“Caught…” Hinata nods slowly, eyes glued to Kageyama’s. “That didn’t take long.”

“He’ll… cover for us.”

“I don’t think that was covering.”

“Do we need cover?”

“No.”

“O-oh…”

“That’s not what I meant, idiot,” Hinata breathes, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Kageyama’s. He lets his eyes fall closed and stiff fingers loosen from the front of Kageyama’s shirt. “This isn’t really happening, is it,” he says quietly.

“Stupid,” Kageyama mutters, his breath starting to even out. He gently shoves his head forward to get Hinata to look at him. Hinata does – but his eyelids are slow to open. He feels tears welling up again and the tender touch of fingers over his cheek. “It’s happening. Stop crying.”

“You stop crying!” Hinata’s voice cracks and his brows furrow, even when he covers the hand on his cheek with his own.

“I’m not crying,” Kageyama says. Clearly crying.

Hinata giggles at that and shuts his eyes, sniffing. “We should probably go,” he says, catching his lip in his teeth at the thought of ending this moment.

This dream. Whatever it is.

“I think they left without us.”

Hinata opens his eyes and nods. “But maybe we can catch them,” he says.

“I don’t want to.” Kageyama moves both hands to Hinata’s waist, giving him a gentle squeeze. “We’ll see them in the fall.”

Hinata winces at that, but he doesn’t want to argue. He’ll let the fantasy last just a bit longer. And so he nods, tearfully.

“I told you to stop crying,” Kageyama murmurs, raising a hand to wipe away fresh tears with his thumb. Hinata catches his hand before he lowers it and brings it to his lips, softly kissing his knuckles. Kageyama pulls in a quiet breath.

“I’ll wipe my snot on you,” Hinata says against skin, lips pulling into a smile.

“Come over,” Kageyama says suddenly when Hinata presses a kiss to the back of his hand.

Yeah. There’s no way this is really happening.

“You want me to wipe my snot on your house?”

“No—stupid—just… come over,” Kageyama says again. Hinata looks up to meet his eyes. They’re serious but soft. Pleading.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Hinata scolds, frowning. “I’ll come over.”

“Right now.”

Hinata nods, but otherwise he doesn’t move. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

“Stay overnight.”

“Um,” Hinata’s throat works around a swallow. “Y-yeah,” he repeats, pulling his gaze away and dropping their hands between them. “Okay.”

“Now,” Kageyama says again with a crinkle in his brow.

“Okay, okay, jesus. Impatient.” Hinata makes a move to stand, but Kageyama’s hands snap to his hips. Stilling him. Hinata blinks into Kageyama’s face in confusion and then the setter looks away with a new dusting of pink in his cheeks. Hinata frowns. “I just have to… go get some stuff from my house,” Hinata tells him, “a-and I’ll—”

“No.”

“No?” Hinata cocks his head, staring at the side of Kageyama’s face. And suddenly blue eyes meet his.

“No,” Kageyama says again. “I have stuff. Just walk home with me.”

“I will, I just—”

“ _Please_ ,” Kageyama says in a hoarse whisper as his hands tighten at Hinata’s waist.

And then Hinata understands. And his heart clenches with something beautiful and overwhelming and unmistakably sad—

“I’ll come back, stupid,” he whispers.

Kageyama just looks at him with frightened desperation shimmering in his eyes.

And then slowly, gently, Hinata leans forward and kisses Kageyama again. He lets his lips linger – just enough to get the message across; just long enough to say,

_“I’m not going to run again.”_

When he pulls back, Kageyama’s eyes are still loosely closed, and when he opens them they look dizzy. Unfocused.

But Hinata says, “okay. We can go to your house.”

There’s relief in the breath Kageyama releases, but the tension mounts again as both of them start to think about Kageyama’s request.

“I, uh, need a toothbrush,” Hinata says nervously. “We could stop at—"

“We have an extra.”

“I… need clothes.”

“You can borrow mine.”

“I need… um…” Hinata trails off, his face burning so bad he wants to cover it.

_There’s no WAY—_

“We’ll figure whatever, um, _else_ out when we get there,” Kageyama says, his face glowing with a matching shade of red. “Let’s just go.”

He lets Hinata stand, then, but Kageyama catches his hand before he turns away to gather his things. When Hinata spins back to him, Kageyama’s lips part and he sucks in a quick breath – but then he lets it out again; his whole body wilts with it and he drops his head.

Hinata bites his lip to keep it from wavering and he yanks on Kageyama’s hand to get him to stand. The setter does, and Hinata immediately steps forward and moves into his arms again, wrapping his own around the other and squeezing tight.

“You hugged me in here once, remember?” Hinata says into Kageyama’s shirt.

“Of course I do.”

And Hinata nods, letting a few more tears leak down his face. “You feel… really good,” Hinata whispers, pressing his face closer to Kageyama’s chest.

“What are you doing?” Kageyama asks to red hair.

“Wiping my snots.”

“Oh, get off me!” Kageyama huffs, working a hand between his chest and Hinata’s face and palming him away. Hinata giggles crazily and wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“Well, come on then!” Hinata jumps towards his bag and slings it up around his body. Kageyama does the same and follows Hinata to the door.

“Excited?” Kageyama asks with a weird, bashful smile that makes Hinata’s stomach swoop and hands shake as he tries to jam the key into the lock. Hinata coughs out what’s supposed to be a laugh, but the look Kageyama gives him after makes him wonder what sort of noise he really made as he shoves the key into his pocket.

“I just want to get to your house before the dream ends,” Hinata says, going for a casual shrug that feels jerky and stupid. Whatever. He doesn’t care.

“Dumbass,” Kageyama snaps, grabbing Hinata by the elbow and spinning him around. “This isn’t a dream,” he says before leaning down to kiss him.

“Mm…” Hinata hums happily, his mind reeling. “Well,” he says when Kageyama straightens up. “Just to be safe…” he trails off and takes a slow step towards the stairs.

And then he’s off.

“Race!” He calls over his shoulder with Kageyama already right at his heels.

His legs are jelly and his heart is in his throat and he probably shouldn’t be running in this condition but he’s _happy_ – he’s so fucking _happy_ he wants to scream about it. He wants to run through the streets and yell about it but right now he’ll settle for half of that. He’ll run with Kageyama until his legs give out and his heart bursts. Until he explodes in a brilliant flare of love and elation and people have to pick pieces of him out of the trees. They’re running – but it feels like they’re flying.

Because he’s happy. Finally. They’re both happy.

 

No, really. They’re happy.

It’s all okay.

Really.

It happened.

Guys.

Just trust me.

 

They’re happy.

 

And it’s only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! 
> 
> It happened :D 
> 
> And just so you know, IT ISNT OVER YET. There are still at least like 10 more chapters (I think I’ve been saying ‘ten more’ for the past 20 chapters) because it’s rated E for a REASON and come on. They’re both 18 now. Hinata is going to be 19 very soon. They are madly in love. What do you think is going to happen? 
> 
> And don’t worry, there is still a lot of actual PLOT to unravel :D 
> 
> ALSO!! People have been wondering about how much time actually passed between That Night and The Second First Kiss because my time skips are weak... and I actually didn’t really sketch it out properly for myself, so let’s figure it out together: 
> 
> That Night was the second week of January 2018. 
> 
> Then there’s the fallout until probably midway through April where they barely speak but then they can hang around each other in groups. 
> 
> Let’s say by the end of May they are both “feeling so much better” and they start practicing again with one another and can stand being around each other alone. 
> 
> Hinata’s birthday is June 21st and he gets the gift card and shoelaces from Kags.
> 
> Its July 2018 when Hinata is named captain. Tanaka and Nishinoya stick around to practice with them until they move into the dorms.
> 
> A morning in October 2018 is when Yamaguchi waves around his college acceptance letter. He, Hinata, Kags, and Tsukishima are third years now.
> 
> And then a whole seven months pass until the boys play their final home game. It’s June 2019. 
> 
> So it’s been one year and five months!
> 
> so thank you for sticking with me this long. I’m sorry I made you all wait for this and I really hope it was worth it. I love you guys ❤️ Thank you for making my tired life so full and exciting. 
> 
> ONWARD!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time. I hope this is worth it <3 and since I'm a total wank and didn't update for 5 months, I should let you know that this chapter picks up right after the last one, so you might want to read the last, like, paragraph of chapter 28 to remind yourself of wtf is actually going on (literal spoiler alert: *it's happiness*)
> 
> Please enjoy.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to NearlyJade who has been so supportive and lovely :'D

The race is short and short lived and ends the way most things do that follow long-awaited professions of love and second first kisses: they barely make it to the gate before Kageyama catches the strap of Hinata’s duffle bag and they tumble to the ground together in a swirling of dust and dirt and limbs, falling easily into a soft, tender kiss.

With Hinata on top of him, their legs all tangled, Kageyama savors the settle of Hinata’s weight over him, the feel of their lips moving lazily and the quick puffs of breath from their sprint fanning over their cheeks; the gentle combing of Hinata’s fingers through his hair feels like absolute heaven, and his own fingers flex against Hinata’s shoulder blades when goosebumps shiver over his skin.

“That hurt, stupid,” Hinata breathes. But Kageyama can feel that he’s smiling.

Kageyama smiles back. He’s glad Hinata can’t see it, because it feels like it might look insane. “You’re heavy.”

Hinata tugs sharply on Kageyama’s hair before dipping back down.

Fear and disbelief still weigh heavily on his heart, yes, but the press of Hinata’s chest to his is real and grounding, and soon there is no room left for apprehension with their breathing matched in perfect synchrony. And when Hinata parts his lips for him and lets out a quiet, nasally little moan, Kageyama answers with one of his own and moves a hand to cradle the back of Hinata’s head, anchoring him into the kiss.

“W-wait—‘yama—” Hinata mewls, breaking away to breathe and apparently to suggest something so outrageously _stupid_ that Kageyama almost growls in response.

Wait.

_Wait!?_

How much time had he spent _waiting_ for this already? Fucking _dreaming_ about it? Wishing for it? For a reality where this very thing would somehow be possible?

A muffled cry dies between their lips when Kageyama yanks Hinata back down to him and small hands ball up into his sleeves – captive and eager – tilting his head and kissing his way into Kageyama’s mouth.

‘ _Wait’_ indeed.

Possessive fingers curl around red locks in response and Hinata gasps – a coarse, throaty sound that makes Kageyama’s blood start to simmer.

“Kage—wait—” Hinata whines again against Kageyama’s lips between kisses before pulling back an inch, “someone will see us!”

“Someone already did,” Kageyama reminds lowly, pulling at that hair again and coaxing Hinata back down to him.

“True, b-but—wait—”

“Don’t want to,” Kageyama murmurs, pressing his mouth to Hinata’s chin, then the side of his jaw. But then he sighs, letting his head fall back to the ground to look Hinata in the face. “What is it?”

“Don’t be _sassy_ ,” Hinata huffs, tightening his hands in Kageyama’s collar and shoving at him, raising himself up. But then he freezes. For a moment Hinata says nothing - his eyes are wide, doe-like, lips parted as he stares down at Kageyama. His gaze is almost curious as he studies him. He looks awestruck. Baffled.

_Beautiful._

“What?” Kageyama grumbles, jerking his face away and feeling his thrumming pulse bleed out across his own heating skin. He can’t help but look back immediately.

The wetness falling again from Hinata’s eyes matches his own, he knows, but the burn to both their cheeks promises to dry them quickly.

“Shut up,” Hinata rasps before cupping Kageyama’s face in both hands and falling back down, kissing him again, soft and lingering. This is much different from the… _event_ just a few minutes prior in the club room. This is slow, and quiet. Though no less intense, and Kageyama’s eyelids drop heavily. He swears this is something like a memory – the dance of Hinata’s damp lashes against his cheeks, the gentle bump of their noses. He’s spent so much time dreaming about this that it’s so familiar already. Yet still so foreign that every subtle movement of Hinata’s body against his – every hitch of breath sends a thrill racing down his spine and airy wings fluttering in his stomach. And when Hinata moves to straddle him, strong legs flanking Kageyama’s hips, Kageyama’s heart starts to _pound_ , and something deep and dark and hungry throbs inside of him, thinning the air in his lungs. He slowly drops a shaky hand to the ground, gouging his fingers into the dusty earth lest he fly right the fuck off it.

“I think—we should go.” Hinata breathes finally, brushing his lips so lightly over Kageyama’s before claiming him fully again. He tastes like salt from the tears but it makes Kageyama’s heart so warm he’s dizzy with it. His flavor. His scent. The heat and the need that Hinata kisses him with, again and again, sighing out the remnants of that same cruel breath used to suggest they _stop_ when he presses into him, lips wet and warm. It’s so utterly overwhelming. So powerful, this… _pressure_ inside him. He doesn’t know how else to describe it. He fears his body might tear inside out and take the whole world with it. It’s all he can do to keep from sobbing.

“Yeah,” Kageyama answers hoarsely, reluctantly drawing back, “we should.”

“‘kay,” Hinata breathes, but then he’s kissing the side of Kageyama’s mouth clumsily.

“‘kay,” Kageyama repeats when he turns his head to catch Hinata’s lips.

It takes several minutes to gather the strength to stagger to his feet, and the kiss that Hinata assaults him with once they finally stand threatens to rob him of that victory and send his weakened legs crumpling beneath him.

“Mmm… okay,” Hinata breathes finally, _again_ , dropping back to his heels and sliding his hands down over Kageyama’s arms. His eyes are closed loosely and he presses his lips together, tasting Kageyama off his lips. Kageyama knows this because he does it, too. Hinata opens his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah?” Kageyama asks quietly, teasing as he watches Hinata’s eyes flick down to his mouth again. “You sure?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Hinata answers tersely.

“You don’t… _have_ to come over if you don’t want to,” Kageyama says, suddenly hesitant. And Hinata jerks like he was slapped in the face. Then he punches Kageyama in the chest before getting behind him and shoving him towards the exit.

Kageyama swallows down his trembling heart. He isn’t sure why he told Hinata to come over. Why he _insisted_ on it.

Well… okay, yeah, he _does_ , but it’s not like he has a plan. He’s just… feeling a little desperate. He can’t let Hinata slip away this time.  

Although the grabby little hand fumbling for his as Hinata sidles up beside him pushes the possibility of that happening further and further behind them. And the way Hinata grips Kageyama’s wrist to smooth his other hand up over his palm, slowly lacing their fingers together with that same look of awe puts a wobbly smile onto Kageyama’s face as they walk. And then Hinata brings that hand to his mouth, pressing his lips reverently to the back of it, once, twice, and three times, humming out a breath of both contentment and something like relief… and maybe something else that makes that thing inside Kageyama throb again. But the brilliant smile Hinata shoots him with and the deep red of fluster high in those damp cheeks rushes his blood with such fierce, raw elation he feels he might faint.

Kageyama’s gaze turns painfully fond when Hinata finally lets their arms hang at their sides, walking hand in hand towards Kageyama’s house. Kageyama squeezes Hinata’s hand.

Hinata squeezes back.

* * *

 

“......and the block was this thing like _BAM_ and the ball did this _WHOOSH_ noise by my head and I was like oh _NO_ but I swear to god Yamaguchi came out of _nowhere_ and then you were like _ZOOM_ and I BARELY jumped in time but you were _right_ there so I……”

It takes longer to get to Kageyama’s than it should, for reasons that should be obvious. The first half of the walk is virtually silent, and Kageyama is too weak not to give in to every urge to pull Hinata against him and find his lips every time Hinata nervously peeks up at him, but after scandalizing a group of elementary students with their _completely_ justified public display, Hinata demands they walk at least ten feet apart the rest of the way.

They fail miserably.

But once Kageyama prompts Hinata with a comment on that afternoon’s game, Hinata is too busy running his big excitable mouth and waving his hands around to get them on Kageyama (Kageyama pretends not to be bitter about it), and they actually make progress in the trip home.

And with Hinata preoccupied – at least for now – Kageyama can covertly wipe away the overwhelmed tears that just won’t stop periodically flowing. The remainder of all those feelings that didn’t burst out of him during his confession are now leaking steadily out of him. And _fuck_ there’s a lot of them – it’s been years, after all. Years of pain and fear and heartache turned inward and squashed. Compressed into every tight corner and flattened into layers and layers against every membrane, packing him so full until he mistook the numbness of emotional overcrowding for escape. Or healing.

But now, the thought of evading his love for this yammering idiot bouncing around next to him displaces the happy ache in his chest for a sharp one.

But deep in his core must have always known. Glancing down at Hinata chattering away, he can’t imagine not spending every second of the last year not being hopelessly in love.

“HEY!” Hinata huffs suddenly, waving his arms around. “Kageyama! Are you even listening!?”

“No,” Kageyama says as they round the corner to his street.

“Rude! I was having a _conversation_ with you!”

“You’ve got a pretty loose definition of ‘conversation’.”

Hinata headbutts him in the shoulder.

As they approach Kageyama’s house, Hinata starts to lag a step or two behind, nervously fingering at the strap of his duffle bag across his chest. Kageyama realizes he’s doing the same thing and jams his hands into his pockets. Because he's not nervous. He's _not_. He's fucking terrified.

“So, ah…” Hinata says, trying his hardest to sound laid-back and trailing behind as they walk up the driveway. “Are... your parents home?”

“Probably,” Kageyama says flatly, ascending the steps to the front porch and listening to Hinata _clomp clomp clomp_ up after him. “They left the school right after the game so—“ Kageyama stops short when Hinata’s arms circle him tightly from behind.

“Okay so then… wait a minute,” Hinata mumbles, pushing his warm face between Kageyama’s shoulder blades. Kageyama doesn’t mean to go all ridged, breath catching, at the sound of that voice, all small and muffled behind him.

But he does.

“I just…” Hinata sniffles, “I missed you… I missed you so much… I was so… _lonely—“_

Kageyama’s heart clenches when Hinata breaks off with a choked little sob. “Dumbass,” he mutters, his head dropping, “I didn’t _go_ anywhere.”

“I know but,” Hinata tightens his hold, fingers crawling up to clutch at the front of Kageyama’s shirt, right over his heart, “it wasn’t—“

Kageyama turns in Hinata’s arms, sudden enough for Hinata to let go and take a step back, wiping his eye with the heel of his hand.

Kageyama frowns, looking away quickly and shaking his head. “I don’t know why I said that,” Kageyama says, _Probably because I’m scared to death,_ he wants to add.

But he doesn’t. Instead he says,

“I... know exactly what you mean.”

He can feel Hinata staring at the side of his face, all watery eyes and quivering chin. “Really?” Hinata squeaks.

Kageyama nods. “It was never the same after…” he trails off, awkwardly clearing his throat when a sickly feeling cleves there. He doesn't want to mention that night. Fuck, he  _can't_. “And even when I thought it _was_ the same again... I… it obviously _wasn’t_ and I don’t think I ever wanted it to be the _same_ , I wanted _more_ but that didn’t mean—“

“It didn’t mean that volleyball wasn’t fun anymore!” Hinata interjects, completing Kageyama’s thought. “We are still—we were still partners and we could do _anything—“_

 _“_ But there was this… like…”

“Disconnect.” Hinata sniffles. Kageyama still can’t look at him, even with Hinata’s words ringing absolutely true. “It didn’t f-feel right… but I—I thought… _dammit_ , Kageyama!” he sobs suddenly, “why didn’t you _tell_ me!?”

Kageyama worries his lip in his teeth and stares hard at a spot of the wood grain on the porch.

“You _knew_ —“ Hinata chokes, “you knew how I felt about you! So why—“

“Dammit!” Kageyama whirls back to face him as a sharp pain pierces his chest. “I didn’t! I didn’t _know_ , I just _hoped—“_

“You did know!” Hinata jabs a finger at Kageyama’s face, accusing. “You knew! You _said_ you did—“

“I _needed_ that to be true! And how the fuck did _you_ not know?” Kageyama snaps in return. He can feel a dangerous heat creeping up the back of his neck, stinging his skin. “All that time! All those things I did––

“Oh, you mean like completely freaking out when I tried to kiss you!? Yeah! You’re right, silly me how could I have _ever_ misunderstood being launched halfway across the gym––”

“ _You_ said that wasn’t what you were doing!”

“I _LIED_!”

“What about that stupid party at Tanaka’s, huh!?” Kageyama asks. “Do you remember that? The whole fucking night all I wanted to do was––”

“You told me you didn’t want to be my friend anymore!” Hinata reminds him shrilly, throwing his hands up. “You even said you didn’t like me!”

“I didn’t _mean it_ ! Couldn’t you _tell_? I didn’t want to lose you and I thought––”

“How exactly would that have kept that from happening!? How stupid are you!?”

“ _VERY,_ ” Kageyama roars. “ _OBVIOUSLY!”_

“Well I’m sure glad we can agree on _something!_ ”

“Why do you think I wanted to touch you all the time, you idiot!? Why do you think—“

“You were _always_ like that!” Hinata shrieks, his tear-streaked cheeks a deep, dark red. “Ever since—“

“And what the fuck does that tell you, then!?”

And Hinata just stares, mouth fallen open and chest shuddering with shaky breath, his whole body jerking when he presses the back of his hand to his mouth to stifle a sob.

And Kageyama drops his face wearily into his hands. “Oh my god, we are _not_ doing this. And you _have_ to stop crying,” he says, his own voice cracking embarrassingly and he can feel warmth flare in his cheeks.

“I’m emotional!” Hinata cries, stomping his foot and twisting his hand into his shirt at his chest. “After all that time—I mean—you—I _love_ you and you just—” Hinata yelps when Kageyama takes a sharp step forward, instinctively striking a karate pose as Kageyama reaches for him, fingers tightly closing around thin wrists as his heart stutters.

“Say that again,” he rasps.

And Hinata blinks opens his scrunched up eyes. “Say what?”

“Hinata, please—”

“That I love you?”

Kageyama swallows the emotion lumped in his throat, nodding.

“I… I love you,” Hinata says again, hesitant and hushed.

Kageyama’s wide eyes search that blushed up little face, desperate to drink in every nuance – every freckle, every damp lash, every quirk and tremble of those beautiful lips as he says it. To fix it immutable in his mind––

“Say it again?”

“I love you, Kageyama,” Hinata whispers, his body listing towards Kageyama despite Kageyama’s tight hold around his wrists. Or maybe it’s Kageyama pulling him forward—who knows. But Hinata says it again. And again. His eyes fall shut and all the tension in his body melts away when he draws up flush against Kageyama, warm palms pressed to Kageyama’s chest and face tilted up. As if he’s praying. Rejoicing. Not even speaking to Kageyama anymore but letting the words he’s been longing to say overtake him completely in breath after breath of reverent offering.

And Kageyama feels painfully unworthy to take.

Until those honey eyes open for him again. And then there’s no question in his mind that those words have only ever been meant for him.

Kageyama swallows Hinata up in his arms, crushing their bodies together and Hinata’s breathless psalm dissolves into the fierce kiss that Kageyama presses to his open lips.

And Hinata grabs at him desperately, then, arms wound so tightly around Kageyama’s neck that it feels like they might meld into one, and Kageyama’s breath starts to quicken at the threat of it. Kageyama can feel Hinata’s skin, his warmth, trembling beneath his palms where they swim down over his sides, his slim waist, roaming beneath his shirt and up the bare skin of his back to smooth across the bunching muscles of his shoulder blades. Oh _god_ – the past several months as team captain have been good to Hinata. No, Kageyama has never touched him quite like this before, but these last months of hard training have left his upper body wrapped in toned, lean muscle, much like the lower half that has secretly been the subject of Kageyama’s imagination in so many quiet moments of meditation; and Kageyama has had his hands on him at least enough in the past to be able to appreciate the change now, so well-hidden by a frame still so lithe and small. A privilege not granted merely by looking.

But Kageyama isn’t just looking. He’s exploring. _Touching_ . Flexing his fingers into the warm, strong flesh that he’s craved for so, _so_ long.

Oh, what gods in heaven have blessed him with such otherworldly gifts—

And so he moans his wordless thanks, sipping Hinata’s own gratitude from that searing mouth and swallowing his heat that spreads like wildfire.

Down and down. Deeper and deeper to that throbbing core—

“‘yama—Kage—Kageyama—” Hinata mewls in the small gaps between their lips when they come up precariously for air, and the sound of him riles Kageyama’s pulse in his veins; emboldening his hands, or maybe turning them desperate. Greedy. Steering one up the neck of Hinata’s white t-shirt to twine into his hair, the other dives down over skin, taut and trembling over ridges of a busy rib cage, past a smooth, trim waist and a slim hip—

Hinata’s breath turns labored, panting – and, shit, so does Kageyama’s – when Kageyama’s palm glides over the round, achingly _perfect_ globe of Hinata’s clothed ass, fingers dipping against the creased join of a powerful thigh—

“ _Oh!—“_ Hinata _keens_ against Kageyama’s lips when Kageyama squeezes that mound of flesh in his hand, and Kageyama almost does, too – a coarse breath grinds out of him with an absolute _handful_ heavy in his palm. He fans his hand out, getting more of Hinata beneath it and Hinata arches against him in a way that’s absolutely criminal. Shuddering and shivering with every tug of Kageyama’s other hand in his wild hair with a babbling stream of _oh my god_ and pieces of Kageyama’s name spilling off his sweet tongue – but then that changes. Those weepy, broken bleats, those breathless little moans shift into something deep and rough. Fucking _lethal._ A voice Kageyama has never heard from that loud, gabby mouth, not even in his deepest fantasies where he imagined Hinata twisting and writhing against him – begging and pleading and _needing_ Kageyama to––

“ _Ah––_ Kage––that–– _fuck––”_

Oh.

_Oh god._

Kageyama’s breath is ragged and not enough because he’s too busy trying to drag that voice down as deep as it can go. But it’s already filling him, hot and spreading, and it’s too much but not _enough_ not nearly fucking _enough_ and then Hinata hooks a leg around him and knots his hands in his shirt like he wants to climb him, or maybe pull him down to the floor and, honestly, Kageyama would be totally okay with either, and this isn’t _getting_ out of hand this _is_ out of hand and the new press of Hinata’s body is simultaneously this precious gift and fucking _ordeal_ and Hinata is so wrapped up in draining all restraint from Kageyama, drop by heated drop that he doesn’t hear the click of the front door and the quiet creak of a hinge but Kageyama does—

“— _FWAH!”_

—and his heart seizes and eyes fly wide when hinata’s back connects hard with the hard wooden floor of the porch with a sickening thud—

“Tobio? I thought I heard—Shouyou!? What…” Kageyama’s mom shifts an alarmed gaze from boy to panting boy and then finally settles it on Kageyama, her brow creasing. “What’s going on?”

But Kageyama can’t look at her while his stomach runs cold, shooting icey deja vu up through his heaving chest as Hinata shakily pushes up into his elbows. Kageyama immediately wants to go to him and pull him back into his arms and beg for forgiveness, even with his mom watching because he didn’t mean to _do_ that, but he’s completely paralyzed with fear—

“Hi Mrs. Kageyama!” Hinata chirps as a ridiculously huge smile splits his red face. You almost can’t hear the husk to his voice.

Almost.

”You boys weren’t fighting, were you?” Mrs. Kageyama asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Of course not!” Hinata says, springing to his feet and shooting that smile at Kageyama with such force Kageyama can feel it bounce off his chest. Either that, or his heart started beating again.

“Then what—“

“Oh, well, you know me,” Hinata giggles, “Tobio was showing me this new idea for a quick and I got excited and, well…” as Hinata trails off, Kageyama notices the way he slowly and awkwardly rearranges his duffle bag in front of his hips and his mouth runs runs utterly dry. He chokes on nothing when a hard swallow sticks in his throat, pulling his mother’s attention back to him.

She’s staring at him, expression blank except for the subtle arch to her brow. “Really,” she says flatly.

Kageyama nods quickly. He can see Hinata squirming out of the corner of his eye, readjusting the bag. And for several agonizing seconds, his mom just blinks at them, saying nothing. But then a wry smile pushes into her cheek.

“Well alright then!” she says brightly. “Come in! Do you want to stay for dinner, Shouyou? I’m making curry.”

“Yes please!” Hinata’s face lights up and he rushes past Kageyama, stopping in front of his mother like a puppy to let her ruffle his hair.

“It’s so nice to see you! It’s been so long since you’ve been here,” Mrs. Kageyama says, leading Hinata into the house. “Have you gotten taller?”

“ _Uwaah~_ you noticed!” Hinata crows, striking a proud pose after stepping out of his sneakers. “One-point-six centimeters since my last birthday!”

“Such a man and still so cute!” Kageyama’s Mom pinches his cheek and Hinata positively eats it up. “You know, you played such an amazing game you should be so proud of yourselves, and I was just talking to your mother earlier about tomorrow and where we could maybe……”

As their cheery voices fade into the house, Kageyama remains glued to the porch, blinking at the empty doorway as his breathing finally returns to normal, for now, absently rubbing at the back of his sweat-damp neck as a dozen new emotions gush inside him. The understanding of what’s actually happening finally begins to settle over him––

“Tobioo!” Hinata lilts from the kitchen amidst the clattering of dishes. “Help me set the table!”

He never knew his heart could feel so full.

“Dumbass,” he mumbles under his breath. And then he unwinds his fingers from where they’re clenched up in his shirt and steps into the house to join the happy voices in the kitchen.

* * *

 

There are only a handful of family dinners that Kageyama would call “memorable”, but this one would rocket right to the top of the hypothetical list; and yet he probably couldn’t report a single word of conversation exchanged at the table.

While Hinata spent the majority of the meal charming the pants off Kageyama’s parents – they’ve always loved him… must run in the family… but having gone so long without seeing much of him, the three of them carried on an on like long-lost friends – Kageyama devoted his time to corralling the butterflies in his stomach and aiming dopey smiles down at his food. There were also a couple super secret knee squeezes under the table that somehow escalated into Kageyama putting Hinata in a headlock after a particularly violent right hook to his shoulder that made Kageyama drop his spoon.

Okay, he _does_ remember when his dad threatened to separate them.

And when Kageyama’s mom asked if Hinata would be spending the night. Okay, yeah. He asked Hinata to do that already, but hearing him confirm it to his mother is just...

It's different. 

“But your mom _said_ I could take some home tomorrow!” Hinata complains loudly, dragging his feet behind Kageyama as they walk down the hallway after cleaning up from dinner.

“You’re not taking my curry.”

“It isn’t _yours_ if you mom— _wahh_ it looks exactly the same!” Hinata exclaims when he barges his way past Kageyama and into his bedroom. “So… _clean_ …” he marvels, strolling his wide eyes slowly around the room.

Kageyama tries not to fidget when Hinata wanders over to his desk, _oo_ ing and _ahh_ ing like some dorky tourist. But then he stops suddenly. Kageyama knows exactly what he’s spotted.

“You…” Hinata starts quietly, “kept it?”

“Of course I did,” Kageyama says, folding his arms across his chest and watching the way Hinata delicately fingers the edge of the goofy drawing he made for Kageyama for his birthday over a year ago, tacked in the center of his cork board. Right beside––

“And the photo?”

“Obviously! It’s _there_ isn’t it?” Kageyama huffs, jerking his gaze away as his face warms. It’s not that he’s embarrassed. It’s just that… he’d grown so accustomed to having those items on his wall that he stopped really seeing them months ago, so even after thinking that he might have gotten over everything, he still didn’t take them down. And the thought that he might have actually forgotten about them makes his chest hurt.

But now with the memories of the night he received them rushing back, flooding his overwhelmed heart with almost too much to bear, he knows he didn’t really forget about them. How could he? It was just some survival tactic. Blinding him to preserve his sanity. His literal life. He chews his lip, eyes pointed towards his dresser and––

Oh.

_Oh._

Okay. _That_ might be embarrassing to be caught with.

The pictures tacked to his corkboard aren’t the only things he grew acclimated to seeing since that night, or protected from seeing or whatever. He originally kept it there to intentionally remember – to _not_ forget all those feelings. But as the months carried on it just became another part of his bedroom. A concrete feature. Like the walls or the floor. Things he wasn’t actively aware of, but would probably miss terribly if they were suddenly gone.

“Ah––it uh––” Kageyama’s arms drop to his sides and his eyes widen, flicking back and forth between Hinata with his back still turned and the bright yellow garment folded neatly atop his dresser, “meant… a lot to me so––”

Hinata whips around to face him, and Kageyama freezes. Wrong thing to say, apparently.

“It did?”

“Y-yeah?” Kageyama stammers, licking his lips nervously.

“Oh…” Hinata turns back around to continue examining the corkboard. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by that kind of stuff anymore, huh?”

Kageyama takes two rapid steps towards the dresser and snatches the thing off it, jamming it into the top drawer and spinning back around, just as Hinata turns to face him again. “No, probably not,” Kageyama answers quickly.

“How long?” Hinata asks with a cock of his head.

“What?”

“How long did you… um…” Hinata taps his fingers together nervously, shifting his gaze to the side, “you know.”

“I don’t really know.” Kageyama blinks. “I guess one day I realized that I had felt… differently. For a while.”

Hinata nods, swallowing. “Differently… yeah,” he says. Then he frowns down at the floor. “I should be mad at you.”

Kageyama bristles at that. “What about you!?” You didn’t tell me––”

“But I don’t want to fight with you ever again!” Hinata snaps. “Let me finish, assface! I’ve lost too much time to that already, and—“ Hinata’s voice cracks strangely. It’s cute. “—I don’t want to waste any more of our time together with stupid arguments!”

“We’re _going_ to argue, idiot,” Kageyama says with a crooked smile as Hinata approaches him. “It’s our thing.”

“Yeah, well,” Hinata flows into Kageyama’s arms, conceding, “can _this_ be our thing too?” Hinata stretches up on his toes and kisses him.

Kageyama kind of wants to hate him for being so smooth and making him feel like swooning like some dumb lady in an old movie. But he can’t even force a scowl.

“I’d say this is already becoming our thing,” Kageyama smiles against insistent lips.

“Mm… I like our things,” Hinata murmurs, letting himself drop back onto his heels. “So what––” he stops short, brows knitting as he looks past Kageyama. “What’s that?”

“Nothing!” Kageyama jerks, slamming himself back against the dresser. “What is what!? There's nothing!”

“Kageyama! Move!” Hinata cries, shoving hard at his shoulder. “It… it _is_!” he gets his grabby hand on the yellow fabric hanging out of the drawer and pulls, sliding the scarf out too fast for Kageyama to snatch it back and then bounding over to Kageyama’s bed, leaping onto it and shaking his full fist towards Kageyama. “You had it the whole time!?”

“You left it here!” Kageyama hisses, rushing towards the bed. “And don’t jump on my bed!”

“Make me, thief!” Hinata bounces obnoxiously. And Kageyama lunges at him to the sound of a startled cry. Hinata shrieks when Kageyama gets his arms around him and throws him down on the bed to try to wrestle the scarf away. “What did you do to it, huh!?” Hinata asks, accusing. “You perverted thief!”

“What!?” Dumbass, I didn’t––”

“Did you sniff it!? Smell it like some creep!? Keep it under your pillow and bring it out ever night to–– _mmMPH!”_ ”

“Oh my god, people can _hear_ you!?” Kageyama hisses, wrapping the scarf around Hinata’s face and pulling it tight over his mouth. Hinata goes limp, then, glaring up with the most affronted little face Kageyama has ever seen. But then those eyes crinkled up at the edges with laughter.

And Kageyama laughs, too.

So does Kageyama’s mom.

“Are you sure it’s safe to sleep here?” She asks, leaning against the doorway as Hinata scrambles out from under Kageyama, face apple-red. “Tobio seems unusually violent tonight.”

“I’d say he’s regular violent,” Hinata giggles and unwinds the scarf from his face. Kageyama rolls his eyes.

“Mom––”

She holds up a hand. “Your door was open, sorry. I’m just washing the guest bedding and I’ll bring the futon in once the sheets are done drying."

“Thanks!” Hinata grins.

That was a nervous ‘thanks’, right?

 _Right._  

They watch Mrs. Kageyama leave, and then there’s a couple moments of silence before—

“So, um,” Hinata starts, trying to sound casual and watching the way the scarf wraps around his hands while he fidgets with it, “what do you want to do?”

“A lot of things.” Kageyama tries to pretend like his face isn’t igniting at his automatic answer, his mind drifting to that last kiss they shared on the porch and the way Hinata had to hide… _himself_ behind his bag. What does he want to _do?_   "But you’re the guest, so you should pick.” Awesome save.

Hinata should run if he knows what’s good for him.

“Well… I wouldn’t mind taking a shower,” Hinata mutters. “I’m sorta gross from the game, still. But we could always go to the park! But um… I kinda just want to stay here…” he knocks his head back and forth with each idea, “...or we _could_ go to the park if you wanted to! We should get practices in while we can, but... I’m also super gross so—“

“Okay yeah,” Kageyama nods, standing from his bed and striding over to his dresser. “A shower is a good idea, we should shower—“ he whirls around. _“—_ Uh,  I-I mean not _we_ ! _Together_ ! Er–– _not_ together. Not ‘we’ as in ‘together’ I mean. T-taking turns!” He sputters suddenly, waving his hands. “I was just saying that yes you can shower too, with me—fuck! No, like, you can shower _too_ , you’re _allowed_ , but it’s not like we haven’t showered together before in locker rooms so it’s not that weird––” it’s like he _knows_ he should shut up or at least climb out his window but his mouth just keeps fucking _going_ . This must be what Hinata feels like all the time. “––to say something like that accidentally––except it wasn’t an accident because it’s _not_ weird and––even though we really never _did_ shower at the same time because I think I was too—I mean it was probably just a coincidence but I don’t think I really remember us showering at the same time but that’s not something I’d _try_ to notice or remember—” he yanks some random clothing out of a drawer and thrusts the bundle at Hinata, “––here, you go first, you really stink.”

Hinata just blinks at him as a sock falls from the pile clutched against his chest.   

Oh god, Kageyama realizes that he’s actually out of breath from that. “Actually no, fuck you I’m going first––” Kageyama dives back into his dresser drawer for some clean clothes and makes a beeline for the door––

“Kageyama! Relax, will you!” Hinata grabs onto Kageyama’s bicep, letting his wad of clothes drop to the floor. “Geez, calm down!”

Kageyama exhales slowly and turns back. Getting a grip. “Sorry.”

“Stupid,” Hinata laughs quietly, but it’s a little skittish. At least it’s mutual, and knowing that actually makes him relax a bit. “Do I really stink?”

Kageyama nods.

And Hinata pouts.

“But I… like it,” Kageyama adds awkwardly. “I like how you smell… after playing.”

Hinata looks so terribly shaken at that, face igniting before he buries it in his hands. “Me too,” he mewls pitifully. “I like how you smell, too. I thought it was weird!”

“It’s weird,” Kageyama confirms, his heart swelling.

Hinata drops his hands. “Are we gross?”

“Yes.”

Hinata nods, expression blushed and satisfied. “‘kay. So can I get some actual clothes to wear?” Hinata asks, kicking at the dropped pile with his toe. “There’s like, nine loose socks and a christmas sweater here.”

Running a hand up his face, embarrassed, Kageyama stalks back to his dresser, mumbling another “sorry” as he plops his own clothes on top before digging through a drawer. “Here,” he tosses a pair of shorts over his shoulder.

“Are these from middle school?” Hinata asks from behind him.

“Yeah. And this won’t fit, but here.” He turns around with a practice shirt in his hand to find Hinata staring down at his old blue shorts.

“Why do you still have these?”

Kageyama shrugs. “I just never threw them away.”

“Oh…” Hinata’s face is weird, but Kageyama doesn’t ask.

“If they’re not good enough for your scrawny ass then give them back!”

“No they are perfect thank you!” Hinata says in an overly aggressive rush. Then he gasps. “My ass isn’t _scrawny.”_

 _“_ I uh… yeah. Agree. With that.” Kageyama mumbles before clearing his throat. “Okay go shower, then.” He throws the shirt in Hinata’s face. “Use whatever soaps you need to. Towels are in the cabinet.”

Hinata blinks at the open door, then down at the clothes in his hands, then at the door again. Then down at the clothes, chewing on his lip.

“What? You need me to show you how to work the faucets or something?”

Hinata opens his mouth and then pauses, thinking hard about what he’s going to say for once. “Ah… do you, um, have—“

Then Kageyama gets it. “No I don’t have any underwear that would fit you! Now go!” He shoves Hinata out into the hall and slams the door, remaining still and holding his breath just long enough to hear a soft giggle and quiet footsteps retreating down the hall.

* * *

 

“Oh my god you are just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! Wearing Tobio’s clothes like his little brother, oh just _look_ at you!”

Kageyama hears the embarrassing cooing from all the way down the hall when he steps out of the bathroom after his shower. “He’s almost nineteen,” Kageyama grumbles, walking into the bedroom.

“I know, but look at him!” Mrs. Kageyama says, presenting Hinata like a prize. Kageyama feels like he kind of is. Until Hinata posts his hands on his hips and fires a proud grin at Kageyama. Then Kageyama wants to shove his face. But he doesn’t.

“Yeah, I see him,” Kageyama mutters, bending down to spread the freshly-washed sheet and blanket over the futon his mom brought in. Kageyama watches his mom fuss over Hinata like he’s some kind of infant and he really does start to wonder if it runs in the family. The guy _is_ cute, but he’s not _that_ cute for fuck’s sake.

Okay no. He is.

Kageyama’s shower was difficult, to say the least. Every ten seconds his mind would wander to those impassioned, frantic kisses in the club room and on the porch. And he’d have to blast himself with cold water because he is _not_ jerking off in the shower with Hinata right down the hall.

But buried beneath layers and layers of nerves and salacious thoughts is a thick lamina of impossible happiness. 

And the thought of Hinata in Kageyama’s old shorts without underwear is making his skin prickle. He tries to keep his eyes up.

_Up._

“You better not have messed up my game!” Kageyama says, pointing to his PSP lying on the bed.

“You took forever! I was dying of boredom!” Hinata cries dramatically.

“I took like ten minutes! And don’t just go through my things!”

“Why? Am I going to find other clothes you stole from me?”

“Oh my god,” Kageyama palms his reddening face. “Shut _up_ , dumbass.” He drops his hand when his mother loudly clears her throat.

“Well, we really missed you around here,” she says to Hinata. “I’m glad you and Kageyama are friends again.”

Hinata opens his mouth to reply, but he snaps it shut and nods with a wobbly smile on his face.

“Have fun kids,” Mrs. Kageyama says. Kageyama is the only one who can see her wide grin as she walks to the door. “And don’t stay up too late. You have to be at the school at eight.”

“Right,” Kageyama mumbles. He watches her leave, shutting the door behind her but leaving it cracked.

Kageyama sighs and walks to shut it.

“So your mom is… kinda weird,” Hinata says hesitantly from behind him.

The door closes with a soft click and Kageyama drops his forehead against the wood, sighing again. “I think she knows that I— _ah!_ —“ Kageyama startles and backs up against the door when he turns around and Hinata is right fucking _there._

“Well, if she _knows_ , then…” Hinata whispers, leaning into Kageyama and reaching past him for the doorknob, “maybe we should lock this… I was hoping to pick up where we left off.”

Now. Kageyama knows that Hinata doesn’t know how to be sexy. He _thinks_ he knows, anyway. He absolutely knows that Hinata isn’t trying to be sexy _now_ – he looks far too terrified to be struggling with any attempt at seduction and almost surprised at what just came out of his mouth. But even though those brown eyes are as wide open as they can go and searching for some kind of apprehension in Kageyama’s face, his voice hoarse with nerves, Kageyama chokes down a swallow and feels heat travel his bloodstream like alcohol. His breath quickens. Hinata is waiting for him to say something – to fucking _react._ And so rasps out,

“I like you wearing my clothes.” And he immediately wants to die.

But Hinata is unfazed. Fuck, he even smiles. “I like it too,” he breathes and puts his arms around Kageyama’s neck, sealing their lips together. Kageyama drops his hands to Hinata’s waist and pulls him in, maybe a little too hard, because the dangerous little gasp that Hinata feeds into his mouth singes the back of Kageyama’s neck with a heat so blazing he gasps, too.

Hinata is like a radiator against him, skin flushed and warm to the touch where Kageyama slips his hands beneath his practice shirt, loose around that slim waist and Hinata shivers; every caress of palm or twitch of fingers against Hinata’s flesh earns him a moan or a throaty whimper. And Kageyama can feel his own greed building. Spurred by needy hands in his hair and at his shoulders and in his shirt and those wet kisses pressed to his mouth, over and over and over. They start kissing harder. Hinata bows against him, his back curving to the power of Kageyama’s lips and hands clutched at his waist. And when Hinata pulls in a gasping inhale, _daring_ to put a distance between them, Kageyama growls, snapping a hand to Hinata’s jaw and rolling his tongue back into Hinata’s mouth. Taking him to the low, guttural sound of approval that quakes from Hinata’s throat but oh, _oh_ he can feel himself sway, unbalanced against Hinata’s body because he needs to fucking _breathe_ – they both need to fucking breathe and so Kageyama drags his lips over Hinata’s mouth, down his chin and pulls in a breath against his wet skin. One of them is drooling and it’s quite probably _him_ but maybe it’s both of them but fuck, Hinata tastes so fucking good, mouth minty from toothpaste and skin fresh but dampening with the salty sweat that Kageyama loves so fucking much. Hinata tastes how he smells. Pure and masculine and sweet and _warm_ , god, how does someone even taste _warm_ but he can’t get enough of it so he mouths down Hinata’s neck, tongue sweeping over his skin and the noises falling out of him don’t even sound human anymore. He’s losing control.

And that last thread of reasoning tethering him to the concept is about to snap. And then Hinata knocks his head back, hand fisting into Kageyama’s hair––

“‘yama—I— _please_ —“

And there it goes.

Hinata is doing that thing again where it’s like he wants to climb Kageyama. But Kageyama does one better. With another growl, he grabs Hinata’s ass and hoists him full off the floor and spins them both around, heaving Hinata against the door with a sound as explosive as the fire lapping up his spine when those fucking thighs wrap around his waist. They squeeze around him just _perfectly_ , gathering something beautiful and aching low in his gut––almost too hard, but it makes Kageyama’s jaw slacken, granting easier access to the tongue swirling around his mouth. A possessive hand clamped around the soft flesh of Hinata’s thigh flies to his hair, and using it at a handle Kageyama pulls Hinata off his lips to lick back down his chin to his neck and stuff his face against it, listening to Hinata mewl and gasp, frantic fingers gripping at his back.

And Kageyama starts to bite him, sinking his teeth in over his pulse like some kind of starving animal. Like he has no control over himself because he fucking _doesn’t_ . Hinata just isn’t _close_ enough he needs to swallow him down, get his flavor inside of him or he might fucking _die_.

And Hinata keeps whining his name, compelling him, and Kageyama uses the last brain cell dedicated to anything aside from consuming Hinata to push the hand that was clutched in red hair over his mouth, shoving Hinata’s head back against the door. “Shut _up_ ––” Kageyama groans against Hinata’s bitten skin in a way that pains him. Going against every desire mounting higher and higher inside of him. It feels like a betrayal. But––

Hinata’s tongue drags over his palm, wet and hot. Kageyama can feel how hard they’re both breathing and his vision starts to cloud over––

And then Hinata gets Kageyama’s middle finger into his mouth, moaning around it and Kageyama teeters on weakening legs. He chomps down hard on his bottom lip and pulls back just enough to watch Hinata roll his tongue around the digit, eyes closed as if in sheer ecstasy, and god help him Kageyama prods another finger at his lips, begging to feel just a little more of that heat around him––

Brown eyes slide open and Kageyama’s knees almost give out.  

And somewhere far, _far_ back in his mind the thought that this might not be real bubbles up––it’s too perfect. Too impossibly good. A piece fitting too impeccably into this fantastical puzzle that he’s crafted in his mind over the years. And if that’s the case then––

Kageyama slides his spit-slick fingers out of Hinata’s mouth to hazy eyes widening in protest and a tongue chasing the retreating digits in the split second before Kageyama moves Hinata away from the door, shaking legs carrying them backwards until his calves hit the bed and he falls heavily onto it, groaning at the weight of Hinata in his lap––         

Hinata loops an arm around Kageyama’s neck and rakes a hand roughly through black hair before claiming his lips, messy and sloppy and out of control and drawing out a low, involuntary noise from Kageyama’s throat––

And ask them later and neither one would know who started it, but there’s a roll of hips and then another. And another. And one more until Hinata jerks back with wide eyes mirroring Kageyama's––

And they both freeze.

The only noise in the room is Hinata’s heavy breath. Kageyama has stopped breathing completely.

And then a noise rattles in Kageyama’s throat. And Hinata opens his mouth and closes it wordlessly.

They look.

They stare.

There’s no nod of a head. No change of expression. But their eyes reflect everything. _Say_ everything.

And they both move as one.

Their lips collide like a clash of thunder when Hinata falls against him and Kageyama’s back hits the mattress the same moment he yanks Hinata up over him, strong thighs gripping, flanking Kageyama's waist and the fluid roll of Hinata’s hips that drags his hard cock over Kageyama’s sends Kageyama’s hand into his own hair, gripping at it hard as he arches into Hinata, pressing his lips together to muffle the white-hot moan that tears out of him.  

“Oh _god_ ––” Hinata cries, burying his face into Kageyama’s neck, “god–– _ah––_ Kage––ah–– _ah––_ ” he babbles, voice breaking in time with the rocking of his hips. “Hold––” he gasps, “––hold onto me––touch me––”

Kageyama’s mind is a blur, head reeling and whirling but Hinata’s fists twining desperately into his shirt hook him back from the spinning edges of the room, and he seizes that whimpered demand like a ballast and abandons his hold on his hair to instead grip Hinata’s and––

And––

And he drags his palm roughly down the slope of Hinata’s back, fingers dipping below the waistband before he has even a moment to hesitate and curling into the flesh of his ass for leverage, holding tight and rocking his hips up hard. And Hinata _sobs_.

Kageyama can feel breath hot and billowing against his chest where Hinata’s mouth falls slack, dampening the fabric with every humid pant that wicks out of him. The newness of this, the sheer inconceivable nature of _this_ is making Kageyama’s heart beat faster and faster––

The slippery fabric of their gym shorts intensifies the feel of their dicks sliding together and Hinata’s heat pressed up against Kageyama’s cock makes him feel like he’s melting, the throbbing coil at the base of his cock winding tighter and tighter, and Hinata feels a lot bigger, _thicker_ than Kageyama imagined and that realization floods Kageyama with something violent and scorching, and yeah he’s caught small glimpses of Hinata in the locker room but he couldn’t _stare_ and Hinata certainly wasn’t _hard_ any of those times––

This is crazy.

This is _crazy_.

This is––

“Y-yeah––” Hinata agrees. Kageyama didn’t realize he was the one saying that. “You feel–– _ah_ ––incre––incredi–– _fuck_ ––”

“I don’t––know––what I’m doing––” Kageyama gasps to the ceiling, throwing his head back and pulling Hinata even harder against him, thrusting up, grinding into him harder and faster as they set an entirely flawless rhythm. Feeding off the other’s tempo in a swirling haze of unbridled, impossible pleasure running so thick in Kageyama’s veins they might burst––

“Shut up––” Hinata gasps, “don’t––stop.”

Kageyama does _not_ stop; keeping one hand firmly cupped to Hinata’s ass he moves the other from his hair to knot a fist in the side of his middle school shorts, using both hands now to drag Hinata forward and back over his stiff cock, feeling that pressure growing, surging beneath his skin––   

And oh. Oh. No way. No _way_.

Fuck.

He’s—

He’s going to come.

He’s going to come.

“Oh shit––fuck––Hinata––” he grits his teeth and uses all his strength to lift his head, and Hinata rolls his own head over Kageyama’s chest, breath huffing, gaze bliss-drunk and hazy and tongue panting over his wet, red bottom lip when he meets Kageyama’s eyes but then––

Oh.

Oh god.

Oh fuck.

Oh god _help_ him––Kageyama sees the way those blue shorts have slipped down Hinata’s hips, too loose for his frame but just right to allow the pink head of his cock to poke out the top of the waistband, shiny and dribbling out an absolute _mess_ onto Kageyama’s swollen length that’s twitching and throbbing beneath the soaked fabric, and he doesn’t even have time to draw a breath before the building pressure braided inside bursts him completely open––

A choked, surprised groan climbs out of his throat but it’s Hinata’s name that falls falls _falls_ from his lips so reverently as it has so many times before, only now, _now_ Hinata is there to hear it by some miracle as his orgasm ripples through him in electric waves, roiling like lightning up his spine and jerking his hips with every pulse that spills into his shorts and Kageyama almost expects Hinata or himself or fucking _both_ of them to disappear or crumble into dust once the bliss abates so he grapples at Hinata with scrambling, trembling hands to haul him up and bring him to his mouth as warm tears surge from his stinging eyes––not to kiss Hinata but just to feel his parted, gasping lips against his while he comes harder than he ever has in his life in a release so astounding and vast he can feel his vision fading and it’s perfect––it’s perfect.

Perfect.

 _Perfect._  

 _Perfect_ , he thinks as the last tremor of glimmering euphoria rolls off his toes.

_Perfect._

_Perfect…_

 

Almost.

 

Kageyama surges forward crushes his hands around Hinata’s waist, flipping him over and slamming him down onto the bed.

“Kage––you––I–– _ah––_ ”

Hinata is fucking nonverbal, bucking his hips uncontrollably when Kageyama drops back over him, clumsily pressing his lips to the corner of that wet, babbling mouth, his brain in a drunken, love- and cum-laden fog and breath still coming hard and fast when he snakes a hand down to grip the waistband of those loose shorts, feeling the hot desperation radiating from Hinata in a streaming current, his own small hands clutching for himself and at the messy sheets below him, curling his fingers around his cock through the shorts in a way that makes Kageyama’s cock thump like he didn’t just empty himself entirely, and Kageyama grunts with something weird like jealousy or envy––something _needy_ and insistent––and he snatches Hinata’s hand away, conflicted in mourning the loss of the sight of Hinata desperate to get himself off, and Hinata cries out, rocking his head back and arching off the bed and screwing his eyes shut, begging, _pleading_ wordlessly with little cries and whimpers and with his hands in his own hair––

“Tobio––To––please––oh god please–– _please––”_  and with those words Kageyama feels himself getting dizzy again, his lungs toiling and heaving in his chest and what the fuck is he even _doing!?_

With a sharp inhale Kageyama yanks Hinata’s shorts down as far as he can over his hips to his splayed thighs, gulping down hard and licking his lips to the shuddering hitch of breath stalling out Hinata’s bleating cries as he reaches—

His hand pauses an inch away. And blue eyes fly wide.

Hinata is _dripping_.

His stiff cock, flushed the prettiest red is shiny and positively _soaked_ , the slit dribbling all over Hinata’s pale belly in a little pool when he shudders beneath Kageyama’s stare, leaking down over his hip and onto the bed––

“Did…” Kageyama swallows, head snapping up to Hinata’s face, “did you come already?”

 

 

 

“God–– _no!—”_ Hinata weeps to the ceiling, chest wrecked and shaking with heaving breath as he violently shakes his head back and forth. Kageyama just came. _Kageyama just came_ and Hinata could _feel it_ . Hinata could feel him throb and twitch and shake between his legs and he could die right now and no ascension would ever compare to feeling _that_ and Hinata feels crazed, legs trembling and heart hiccuping erratically and so hard he can feel it in his head and his face _burns,_ and he arches off the bed as he claws at his thighs in wretched desperation, dragging angry red marks into his legs and then his neck, his cheeks, fingers pulling down his lips as he pries his wet-rimmed eyes open to peer through the tears and find Kageyama because he needs––he needs––”Kageyama––I’m––I’m so––” he sobs,  “–– _help me––”_

And had Hinata never experienced an orgasm before, he’d swear that the feeling of Kageyama wrapping that big hand around his length was sheer ecstasy in itself–-and shit, it might be. Because the feeling that rockets through him rips him wide open, tears up his spine and cracks through his chest with a blooming heat and stitches him back together just to shatter him again into a thousand million shimmering pieces.

And when Kageyama starts to stroke him, a hot, guttural wail swells out of him, bowing his back, flexing his fingers into the bedding beneath him and Hinata really does believe there is no pleasure on earth greater than this, than having the hands on him that have tortured him so sweetly for years and those hungry, fascinated eyes watching him fall apart through dark lashes, _Kageyama’s_ eyes watching him so intently that Hinata burns several degrees hotter just from the mesmerized blue-eyed gaze as Kageyama pumps his slick cock, thumb rolling over the head in these agonizing circles and Hinata realizes somewhere, _somewhere_ in his head so crammed full of mind-blowing pleasure it’s a wonder there’s room for anything else, that this is probably what Kageyama’s does to himself, how he knows to make himself feel good and now he’s doing that for Hinata––sharing this with him.

With _him._

Hinata knocks his head back, eyes screwing down and jaw dropping when he shifts his hips up and down, meeting Kageyama’s fluid strokes with short sharp breaths puffing over his lips and shit, _shit,_ he  really is going to rupture––no vessel can contain this volume of emotion and need and fucking _feeling_ that he’s already accepted his death. He might even be dead already. If he’s not dead then he’s definitely dying. He won’t survive this. He can feel the tingle of electricity gathering in his fingers and toes, charging up inside him. Tightening his stomach in preparation. In warning. He blinks his eyes all the way open when his legs start to shake violently, when his hips start to stutter, jerking back into the soft bed and up again into unimaginable bliss and he clenches his teeth, tips his head far back, mewling out cry after cry and suddenly he feels Kageyama’s other hand slide up behind his head, getting fingers into his hair and  _oh fuck_ the thing he said before about there being no greater pleasure is absolutely fuck-all compared to _this_ ––

And every single moment Kageyama’s hands ever twisted into his locks over the years comes flooding back in a brutal onslaught of joy and love and anguish and heartache and searing, punishing rapture like this flickering montage, some homage to his infatuation and a prelude to what’s to come with Kageyama—

With Kageyama—

_With Kageyama—_

“ _Kageyama—“_

And then he hangs suspended. Broken and between worlds. Where pleasure so divinely raw and bare has no place in conscious life. His nerves fray like the livest of wires, sparks alight every pore. His hands are everywhere—the bed the sheets his hair and even scrabbling at the wall, everywhere _except_ Kageyama to spare him this death by electrocution, beautiful though it is—

He’s coming.

His whole body fizzling and jolting and spurting a warm, heavy wetness high up on his chest, on his neck and chin, coming by Kageyama’s hands and the last thing he remembers thinking is oh fuck oh fuck oh _fuck it_ he’s taking Kageyama with him, and he throws his arms around Kageyama’s neck and crushes him down until panting breaths gust warm against his neck to dispatch him further and further beyond the fading grasp of knowable being––

…

…

…     

Sensation slowly, lightly unfolds around him as he returns to the world. First touch. Then sound. There are gentle fingers in his hair, combing the locks with care from his face and thumbs trace the heavy tears from his eyes.

“Hinata… hey… _hey—_ ” a beautiful deep voice is breathless above him. Snagging up at the end with soft, quiet alarm, “are you okay? _Hinata—”_

Then sight. Sort of.

It’s blurry and unfocused but above him, blue eyes are wide. Worried and searching. And Hinata clumsily raises a weak, noodly arm to cup Kageyama’s cheek in the shakiest hand.

Then his voice returns.

No. No, not his _voice_ but the _awareness_ of his own slurred, droning speech that has been sliding his thick tongue dumbly around his mouth for god knows how long--

“‘ _M––sorry_ … sorry… I’m sorry––” he rasps, pitch rising and growing frantic as he becomes more alert. “Kageyama I––I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ ––”

“Dumbass, hey!  _HEY!_ ”

There’s a hard blink And Hinata’s vision snaps into focus. And so does his other hand to Kageyama’s face. “ _What!?”_

Kageyama's face scrunches at the verbal assault. But he gets over it. “What the hell are you apologizing for?”

“I!––” Hinata stalls out, choking a little as boiling embarrassment takes the place of softly retreating, simmering pleasure, glowing his face red hot. And so he throws an arm over it, hiding his shame but still blurting out, “I made a mess!”

“Yeah,” Kageyama answers immediately. Hinata whimpers into his bicep. He feels Kageyama’s weight shift, gently pushing off of Hinata to presumably survey the damage and Hinata wonders just how long he’d have to hold his breath to slowly fade out of existence–– “and it was amazing.”

Hinata sniffs hard from beneath his arm and dares to peek out from under it. “Um,” he squeaks. “Yeah?”

Kageyama nods a little insanely, eyes wide and pointed at the comforter beside Hinata’s head. “Yeah,” he says again.

Hinata lets his arm drop to his side with a thud, and then––

“ _Uff––”_

Kageyama collapses onto him, scooping his arms beneath Hinata’s shoulders and holding him tight. And despite the crushing suffocation, Hinata can’t help the crazed smile that he pushes into Kageyama’s shoulder.

Kageyama lets him breathe, eventually, and kisses him gently. “That really was––”

“Fast,” Hinata finishes for him against his lips, giggling. And Kageyama does, too, a little breathlessly. “It was _amazing_ ,” Hinata murmurs, returning the soft kiss. But then he whines loudly and jams his face into the crook of Kageyama’s neck.

“Dumbass, what are you doing?”

“Being _shy_.”

“You’re not allowed to be shy after _that_.” Kageyama rolls his shoulder to try to get Hinata to look at him.

Hinata resists, clinging tight to his hiding spot but smiling against Kageyama’s skin.

He’s happy.

So happy he’s trembling. A crazed sound pushes its way past his lips.

“Seriously?” Kageyama sighs. “Are you laughing or crying?”

Laying his head back onto the bed, Hinata beams up at Kageyama with a smile so watery he’s in danger of drowning. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and chokes out that sound again. Something between a laugh and a sob. So yeah. Laughing or crying.

It’s both.

They hug again, heavily affectionate, and then Hinata manages to shuffle up his soaked shorts, grimacing with the slimy, sticky feeling cold against his skin. Kageyama tries and fails to hide a snorting laugh at the look on Hinata’s face when he swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Shut _up!”_ Hinata flings a pillow into his face.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Hinata folds his arms over his chest, looking away while his face burns. “You have to change, too, _idiot_.”

“Call me an idiot again and I won’t give you any more clothes.”

“Idiot.” Hinata turns to face over his shoulder and sticks his tongue out.

“Alright, fine then,” Kageyama says with a shrug, getting to his feet with the smallest wobble and walking to his dresser. “I’m going to shower again, so have fun with all that.”

“I’m just going to steal more clothes when you leave!”

“Yeah, but _you’re_ still going to be gross.”

“Well then!” Hinata springs to his feet. “I’ll just get naked and roll around in your bed!”

Kageyama pauses in closing a drawer. Then he turns, slowly. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

They blink at each other before Hinata realizes what he just said and he slaps his hands over his face, crumpling to the floor. He whimpers pitifully and rolls his cheek against the carpet when Kageyama’s shadow falls over him.

“Here,” Kageyama drops a pair of clean shorts and a shirt beside Hinata’s face. Hinata has to crane his neck up to mumble his thank you. “You go first,” Kageyama adds with a heavy sigh. “You need it more than I do.”

“Or,” Hinata pushes himself to his knees, cringing when the cold fabric swishes over his skin again and keeping his eyes on the floor. “We could, like, go in there together…” he nervously rubs the back of his neck. “I won’t peek at you or anything, it would just be a little faster, you know?”

“Okay… yeah,” Kageyama answers slowly. “That makes… sense.”

“It does, right?” Hinata slides his gaze up.

Kageyama nods once. “Right.”

“I swear I won’t peek at you,” Hinata reiterates, climbing to his feet with the clothes bundled in his arms and following Kageyama towards the door. “I’ll keep my back turned the whole time! I’ll put a towel over my face!”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Kageyama mutters, cheeks ablaze.

“I _won’t_!” Hinata pipes. “Cross my heart!”

“Just _go_ , idiot!” Kageyama hisses, opening the door and ushering Hinata through.

“No peeking! I swear!” he whispers once more before they step into the bathroom.

And wouldn’t you know it.

He really doesn’t.  

* * *

 

There’s something about the buzz of a team victory, the exhilaration of a shared love confession, a mind-melting orgasm and kissing kissing kissing _kissing_ that is so pleasantly and utterly _exhausting_ that after his second shower, Hinata is almost dead on his feet as he shuffles down the hall behind Kageyama, having to butt his forehead into the setter’s back as they walk to even keep steady.

And after they swap the bedding that lay victim to Hinata’s, uh, _mess_  for the clean stuff meant for the futon, they climb into Kageyama’s bed, snuggling up to one another like they’ve done it a thousand times before, knowing just how to settle into each other. Knowing how to fit.

Because they’re meant to. They’re meant to fit.

Just how their lips are meant to find each other. How fingers are meant to softly comb through hair and gently pull at shoulders. And hips. To weave together, safe and solid and secure. Meant to touch…

And he is. Hinata is touching, now. _Feeling_ Kageyama but without urgency. Hands aren’t lewd or demanding; they’re gentle. And they’re gracious. The smother of oppression has been lifted and he’s finally free to feel Kageyama’s skin against his. The small curve of his waist and the pattern of his abs, his chest, shoulders, back. Hinata finds himself quietly wishing his hands were as big as Kageyama’s so he could feel so much more of him at once. And thinking about those hands, now, makes him want to kiss them, but the slow feathery circles drawing over his back tell him he can wait a bit longer for that...

His lips are occupied anyway…      

They’re busy…

Occupied…

_Soft…_

_Kageyama…_

“Hey,” Kageyama breathes, bumping his nose kindly against Hinata’s. And Hinata jerks lightly, eyes fluttering back open in the dark.

“Hm?” he hums. “What?”

“Dumbass,” Kageyama smiles, “you’re falling asleep.”

“‘m _not_ ,” Hinata insists, face tipped up towards Kageyama, chests pressed comfortably together. “I’m kissing you.”

“You’re snoring into my mouth.”

“I don’t snore,” Hinata argues lazily, lips still brushing Kageyama’s with every word.

“Mm… I don’t think you do, actually,” kageyama agrees. “But you drool.”

“Yeaaah.”

“Go to sleep stupid.”

“Don’t wanna. Want to… kiss.” And he does want to, very much so, but he doesn’t have the strength to push himself up that last millimeter, so he whines like a child until Kageyama concedes, pressing their lips together.

“Hey.”

Hinata jerks awake again.

“Sorry,” Kageyama mutters.

“Not sleepin’...”

“Was that…” Kageyama starts. But he pauses, and Hinata can feel his body tense just the slightest bit.

And that rouses Hinata enough to roll his head back to look Kageyama in the eyes. “What?”

Kageyama swallows, shifting his eyes away. “Was what happened… what we did. Was that… okay?”

Hinata frowns. Wants to call Kageyama stupid but…

“Was it not okay?” Hinata asks quietly. “With you?”

“It was!” Kageyama answers quickly, a little roughly. “W-with me, I mean. But…”

Hinata struggles up onto an elbow, brow crinkled as he searches those shadowed eyes. “But?”

“I can see…” Kageyama speaks carefully, slowly. Thinking hard about what he wants to say. “That you might have felt like it happened too fast. I know you said it was fast, but that wasn’t the kind of _fast_ you meant, so... I was thinking that  maybe... even if I didn’t feel that way. I _don’t_ feel that way.”

Hinata cocks his head. Or rather _lolls_ his head to a shoulder––he’s far too weak for any head cocking––what the hell is this idiot saying? “Too… _fast_?”

Kageyama nods.

And if Hinata weren’t breaking down the door of sleep then maybe he’d have the energy to be more incredulous but all he says is, “years, Kageyama. I waited _years_ for you.”

“Yeah but... the build-up––”

“Years!” Hinata hisses, using the last of his energy to butt his forehead against Kageyama’s. Fortunately for both of them that energy reserve is quite depleted.

They stare into each others’ eyes––well, black shapeless blobs with them so close together in the dark––until Kageyama finally exhales deeply and whispers, “fucking _years._ ”

Hinata nods.

“Okay,” Kageyama says. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“And you are now?” Hinata presses. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good,” Hinata grunts, relaxing back into the bed and wiggling up to Kageyama, face tucked up against his neck. “Now go to sleep.”

“ _You_ go to sleep.”

“You go first.”

It’s quiet for several minutes, and Hinata thinks that maybe Kageyama has nodded off, and so he feels himself letting go, too… drifting…

Drifting…

_No wait._

“Kageyama?” Hinata peeps.

“Hm?”

“Promise me this isn’t a dream.”

“I promise it isn’t a dream.”

“But if it’s _your_ dream then what if you’re dreaming that you’re promising me––” Hinata gasps. “What if I’m not even real!?”

“That might be the most sense you’ve ever made.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Kagyeama sighs. “Are you tired or high?”

“Both, I think.” Hinata blows out a slow breath. “I’m so _so_ happy right now.”

“I am too.”

Hinata can feel the tears coming again. And it’s fine. They can.

“Kageyama,” Hinata sniffs, “if this is a dream… come find me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And tell me?”

“I will.”

“I’ll be waiting for you, alright?” he presses his face into Kageyama’s shirt, breathing in. “You have to promise me.”

“You’re being crazy,” Kageyama whispers and presses a kiss into Hinata’s hair.

“I know,” Hinata giggles.

“But I’ll find you,” Kageyama promises, voice gravelling. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“‘kay,” Hinata sighs again, tucking himself against Kageyama with a satisfied shimmy into his warm chest. “I better exist in the morning.”

“I love you,” Kageyama whispers.

And Hinata whispers it back.

       


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you immensely for holding on this long and for all your patience and kind comments these last few months. They really kept me going. And please don’t WORRY it won’t be another 5 months before it’s updated again! Buying a house and moving into it and remodeling it sure does take up a lot of time :D but since I don’t plan on buying another house for another several years I think I should be back on track for regular updates now! So thank you again. Seriously. You guys are my life force :,)

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr.](http://majesticartax.tumblr.com/)
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> I LOVE getting asks, so please, don't hesitate! (Read: I am a slut for attention <3)


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